CHAPTER THREE—JULIE’S STRANGE EXPERIENCE

“That was a splendid story, Tally,” said the Captain, as Tally concluded his legend.

“Yes, I like it better than those I have read of the First Horses in books from the Smithsonian Institution,” added Mrs. Vernon.

“Him true story! My Chief tell so,” declared Tally, positively, and not one of the scouts refuted his statement.

“Well, I don’t know how you girls feel, but I will confess that I’m ready for a nap,” remarked Mr. Gilroy, trying to hide a yawn.

“No objections heard to that motion,” declared Mr. Vernon.

“Not after such a day’s voyage in this schooner,” laughed Julie. “I’ll be fast asleep in a jiffy.”

So the blankets were spread out over the floor of the wagon, and the girls rolled themselves into them, and stretched out as planned. The planks of the floor were awfully hard and there seemed to be ridges just where they were not wanted. Directly under Julie’s back was a great iron bolt but she could not move far enough to either one side or the other to avoid it. So she doubled her blanket over it, and left her feet upon the bare wooden planks.

“I’m thankful there are no tall members in this Troop,” remarked the Captain, after they were all settled in a row. “If there were, her feet would have to hang over the side of the wagon.”

Tally and the two men spread out their rubber covers in front of the fire, and all were soon asleep.

Julie’s brag about falling fast asleep in a jiffy proved false, for she could not rest comfortably because of the bolt. So her sleep was troubled and she half-roused several times, although she did not fully awaken. Then, during one of these drowsy experiences when she tried to get on one side of the bolt, she heard a strange sound.

She sat up and looked around. It was still dark, although the first streaks of dawn were showing in the sky. Her companions were stretched out under their covers, and Mrs. Vernon was softly snoring. Julie lifted a corner of the canvas curtain to ascertain what it was that awakened her, and she saw a suspicious sight.

The guide was in the act of getting upon his feet without disturbing the two men who slept soundly by the fireside. He waved a hand, as a signal, towards the brush some ten feet away. And there Julie saw a hand and arm motioning him, but no other part of its owner could be seen.

“Well I never!” thought Julie to herself, as she watched Tally creep away from the fire and make for the bushes.

He was soon hidden behind the foliage, and then Julie heard sounds as of feet moving along the forest trail.

“I’m not going to let him put anything over on us, if I know it!” thought she. And she quickly stepped over the quiet forms in the wagon, and slid down from the back of the schooner. That night the scouts had on moccasins, fortunately, and her feet made no sound as she swiftly followed the Indian through the screen of leaves. Then she saw, some dozen yards ahead of her, two forms hurrying up a steep trail that ran through the forest. One was Tally, and his companion was an Indian maiden.

Unseen, Julie softly followed after them, and finally they came to a roaring mountain torrent that was bridged by a great fallen pine. On the other side of this stream were two shining black horses, with manes and tails so long and thick that the scout marveled. They were caparisoned in Indian fashion with gay colors and fancy trappings.

The maiden quickly loosed the steeds and Tally sprang up into one saddle, while the squaw got up into the other. Then they continued up along the trail without as much as a glance behind.

Julie managed to creep over the treetrunk and gained the other side of the torrent, then ran after them as fast as she could go. But they had disappeared over the crest and the scout had to slow up, as her breath came in panting gasps.

Finally she, too, reached the summit, but there was no sign of horses or riders. A wide cleared area covered the top of the mountain, from which a marvelous view of Denver and its environs could be had. Distant peaks now glimmered in the rising sun, and Julie sighed in ecstasy at such a wonderful sight.

Then she remembered what brought her there, and she ran across the clearing to look for a trail down the other side and, perchance, a glimpse of the Indians.

Passing a screen of thick pines, she suddenly came to an old flower garden, and on the other side of it stood a rambling old stone castle, similar to Glen Eyrie at Colorado Springs.

“Humph! This looks as if some one tried to imitate General Palmer’s gorgeous castle, but gave it up in despair,” thought she.

Julie walked across the intervening space and reached the moss-grown stone steps that led to a great arched doorway. She had a glance, through wide-opened doors, of gloomy hallway and a great staircase, then she skirted the wing of the building, and came out to a wide terrace that ran along the entire front of the pile. The view from this high terrace caused her to stand perfectly still and gaze in awe.

She could see for miles and miles over the entire country from the height she stood upon. It was almost as wonderful a view as that from Pike’s Peak. Sheer down from the stone terrace dropped a precipice of more than five thousand feet. Far down at its base she could see a stream winding a way between dots of ranches and narrow ribbons of roadways.

“This is the most marvelous scene yet!” murmured Julie. Then she frowned as a thought came to her. “If Tally knew of this place,—and it is evident that he did,—why did he not tell us of it, so that we could climb up and see it in the morning? And why isn’t this old castle on the road-map, with a note telling tourists of the magnificent view from this height?”

After a long time given to silent admiration of the country as seen from the terrace, Julie turned and slowly walked up the stone steps that led into the hall. “Wonder if the place is abandoned,” thought she, peeping inside the doorway.

As no sound or sign of life was evident, she tiptoed in and gazed about. The tiles on the floor were of beautiful design and coloring, and the woodwork was tinted to correspond. The walls were covered with rare old tapestries, while here and there adown the length of the hall stood suits of armor and mailed figures.

Bronze chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, and on each side of the hall stood bronze torchères holding gigantic wax candles.

“Well, in all my life I never dreamed of visiting such a museum of old relics!” sighed Julie, who dearly loved antiques.

Suddenly, as silently as everything else about the place, there appeared a white-haired servitor in baronial uniform. He came forward and deferentially bowed, then he spoke to Julie.

“Are you the Indian maiden the guide was to meet to-day?”

Julie was so amazed at the question that she could not reply, so she barely nodded her head.

“Then follow me, as the master waits. The guide sits below, eating breakfast,” added the old servant.

At the mention of breakfast, Julie felt her empty stomach yearn for a bite of it, but she silently turned and followed the major-domo, as she knew him to be, along the hall and up the stairs. As they reached the first landing the old man said, “The master is in his laboratory in the tower. Breakfast will be served there.”

Julie accepted this as cheerful news, so she fearlessly followed after the guide. She had seen no tower from the outside of the rambling building, but, she thought, there might have been one at the wing opposite the one around which she came when she walked to the front of the place.

Having reached the top of the stairs, Julie saw that the entire second-floor walls were covered with ancient portraits. She would have loved to stop and study the ancient costumes of the women, but the man ascended the second flight of stairs, and she must follow.

They went along the hall on the third floor, and at the end the servitor entered a small room that was heavily hung with velour portières. He pushed them aside and turned a knob that seemed to be set in the carved panel. Instantly this panel swung open and disclosed a narrow spiral stairway leading to an iron platform overhead.

Julie began to question the wisdom of this reckless act of hers; but having come so far, how could she back out gracefully? Why should this master want to breakfast with an Indian squaw—for such he was expecting?

“This way,” politely reminded the old man, and Julie had to see the thing through to the end—whatever that might be.

At the head of these spiral stairs the man pulled on a heavy cord, and another hidden door set in carved panelling opened. Through this they went, and then the man said:

“Be seated, and I will call the master.”

Julie gazed about her in profound curiosity. The room was an octagon-shaped laboratory, so dark that its corners were in shadow. The only light came from a huge glass dome ceiling. One side of the room was taken up by a great fireplace; opposite this stood a high cabinet filled with the vials and other equipment of a chemist. The paneled door through which she came took up the third side, and the five other sides were filled with tiers of shelves, where stood rows of morocco-bound books.

Great leather chairs stood about the room, and in the center, upon a magnificent Kirmanshaw rug, stood an onyx table with a great crystal globe upon it. At one side, near the narrow door through which the old servant had gone, stood a grand piano.

Julie had no time for further inspection of the room, as a unique figure suddenly appeared in the small doorway through which the servitor had gone. He was very tall and thin, and was clad in wonderfully embroidered East Indian robes. A fez cap covered the bald head on top, and a thin straggly white beard fringed the lower part of his face. Upon his scrawny finger a strange stone glittered and instantly attracted her gaze.

Julie wondered who this unusual person might be, but he vouchsafed no information. In fact, he stood perfectly still as if waiting for her to open the conversation. This proved to be the fact, for he gazed searchingly at the girl, and then murmured, “Well?”

Julie tried to summon a smile and act nonchalant, but the entire atmosphere of the place was too oppressive for such an air, so she stood, changing her weight from one foot to the other. This form of action—or to be more exact, inaction—continued for a few minutes, then the old man gave vent to a hollow laugh. It sounded so sepulchral that Julie shivered with apprehension.

He started to cross the room. When he came within a few feet of his guest he said, raspingly, “Maiden, I know thee. Thou’rt a descendant of Spotted Bear, the coward! And I—I am the young Medicine Man who won the robe and spear, and brought the horses to earth for mankind to use. Hast aught to say to that?”

At these words Julie was too amazed to answer. To see the hero of that wonderful Indian legend standing before her eyes—but oh, how old he must be, for that happened ages ago, and his yellow parchment-like skin attested to a great age.

As she thought over these facts, she could not keep her eyes from the old man’s face, and now she actually could trace a resemblance to the young guide, Tally. Could the latter be a descendant of this Medicine Man’s? As if the old fellow read her thoughts, he chuckled, “Aye! The guide is one of my tribe, and thou art a member of that of the outcast, Spotted Bear. Because I have found thee, I shall see that no descendant of that coward’s goes forth again to trouble the world.”

Julie began to fear that she had been very indiscreet in coming into this old ruin as she had done, especially as she would find it difficult to convince this old man that she was not the Indian maiden he thought her to be. But she paid attention to his next act, which was to pull out a great chair and drop back in it as if too weary to stand longer upon his spindling legs.

“Art hungry? Even my enemy must not complain of our bounty.” So saying, the old man reached forth a long thin arm and his fingers pushed upon a button in the wall. Instantly a panel moved back and disclosed a cellaret built into the wall. Here were delicious fruits, cakes, and fragrant coffee.

“Help thyself. I will wait till thou art done,” said he, waving his hand at the food.

Julie was so hungry that the sight of the fruit made her desperate. Had her future welfare depended upon it, she could not have withstood the temptation to eat some of that fruit. She went over to take an orange, but a horrible thrust in her back caused her to cry out and put both hands behind her.

To her horror she found the old man had thrown some hard knob at her and it had made such a dent in her flesh that it could be distinctly felt at the base of her spine. The insane laughter that greeted her wail of pain made her realize that she was in the presence of a madman!

“Why not eat, Maiden? I will amuse myself, meantime,” said the old man, as he finished his laughter.

Julie saw him rise and hobble over to the piano, then seat himself before the keyboard and begin to play the weirdest music she had ever heard. But the pain in her back continued so that the thought of breakfast vanished. All she cared for now was to get rid of that suffering.

When she could stand the agony no longer, she gathered courage enough to limp over to the piano and beg him to release her, as she was in great pain.

“Aha! Didst ever think of how Spotted Bear caused the child to suffer when it went down in the water?” asked he, suspending his hands over the piano keys.

“But I hadn’t anything to do with that! Why strike me for his crimes?” retorted Julie, gaining courage in her pain.

The old man frowned at her fiercely, and mumbled, “Art obstinate? Then we’ll have to use other ways.” He turned and pushed another button in the wall back of the piano, and instantly the glass dome overhead became darkened, so that Julie could not see the objects in the room very plainly.

The host got up and started slowly for Julie. His eyes seemed afire with a maniac’s wildness, and the scout feared he was planning to attack her. She screamed for help, and ran for the door in the paneling through which she had entered. But the cry seemed muffled in her throat and no audible sound came forth.

The host laughed that same horrible laugh again, and Julie tried again, harder than ever, to shout for help. Still her vocal chords seemed paralyzed, and no sound was heard from them.

Just as she reached the paneling, the old man must have hurled another hard ball at her, for she felt the blow in her back and shrunk with the pain. And as she squirmed, she distinctly felt the painful object move from one side of her spine to the other, as if it were a button under the skin that was movable.

But the door in the panel could not be opened, and Julie worked her hands frantically over its surface, while the old Indian laughed and crept closer to her. When he was near enough to reach out and take her in his awful hands, the scout gathered all her courage and flung herself upon him.

She fought with hands and teeth, and kicked with her feet, hoping that his great age would render him too weak to resist her young muscular strength. She knew she must overpower him or he would kill her, mistaking her for the maiden descended from Spotted Bear.

She had thus far won the hand-to-hand fight, so that he was down upon his knees and she was over him with her hands at his throat, when suddenly he collapsed, and his eyes rolled upwards at her. In her horror she managed to yell for help, and then she heard—

“Julie! Julie! Have mercy! Stop tearing Betty to bits!”

Through a vague distance Julie recognized the voice of Joan. Oh, if they were only there to help! But she kept a grip on the old Chief’s neck while she waited to answer the call.

Then she heard very plainly, “For the love of Pete, Julie, wake up, won’t you!” And some one shook her madly.

Julie sat up and rubbed her eyes dazedly, while the scouts about her laughed wildly, and Betty scolded angrily.

“Oh, Julie, what an awful nightmare you must have had,” laughed Mrs. Vernon.

“Is Tally back?” asked Julie.

“He’s cooking breakfast,—smell it,” said Anne, smacking her lips.

“I can smell coffee,” mumbled Julie, still unconvinced that she had been dreaming. “It smells exactly like that old man’s.”

“What old man?” again asked the circle about her.

“Why, Good Arrow, to be sure! He lives up on that hill—and, girls, he’s as old as Methusaleh, I’m sure!” declared Julie.

The wild laughter that greeted this serious statement of hers did more to rouse the Leader from a cloudy state of mind than anything else, and soon she was up and out of the wagon to look for a trail that might run over the crest of the hill.

But there was no trail, neither was there a mountain climb such as she remembered in her dreams. At breakfast, she told the dream, to the intense amusement of every one, Tally included. Then the Indian guide remarked, “No better sleep on iron bolt, nex’ time!”

CHAPTER FOUR—GOING UP!

“I hope we can say good-by to the old wagon to-day,” said the Captain, after they were seated again, ready to resume the journey.

“You seem not to like our luxurious schooner?” laughed Mr. Gilroy.

“Luxurious! Had we but known what this ride would be like I venture to say every scout would have chosen to walk from Denver,” exclaimed Mrs. Vernon.

“And here I’ve been condemning myself as being the only ingrate in the party!” returned Mr. Gilroy. “I remember with what enthusiasm the scouts hailed the suggestion of traveling a la prairie schooner.”

As the wagon came out from the screen of trees where they had camped for the night, the scouts saw the vapors in the valley eddy about and swiftly vanish in the penetrating gleams from the rising sun. Here and there patches of vivid green lay revealed, but in another half hour the sun would be strong enough, with the aid of a stiff breeze, to dispel all the clinging mists of night into their native nothingness.

“Just as our earthly pains and sorrows go,” remarked Mrs. Vernon.

“Yes, Verny, just like Julie’s dream, eh? She woke up and could hardly believe that she was here—safe and happy,” added Joan.

The road was rough and the joggling was as bad as ever, but the scouts were not so resigned as they had been the day before. Every little while they asked, “Now how far are we from Boulder?” for there they would have surcease from such “durance vile” as this mode of travel imposed upon them.

To distract their attention from physical miseries, Mr. Vernon asked a question, knowing that Mr. Gilroy would instantly divine his intention and follow it up.

“Gilroy, how do you explain the queer fact that the higher we go on these grand heights, the more stunted we find the trees? One would expect to find beautiful timber on top.”

The scouts listened with interest, and Mr. Gilroy noted this and consequently took the cue given him.

“Why, timber-line in the West, Vernon, means more than the end of the forest growth. Most trees near the top of the peaks are stunted by the cold, or are twisted by the gales, and become bent or crippled by the fierce battles they have to wage against the elements. But they are not vanquished—oh, no!

“These warriors of the forests seem to realize with a fine intelligence how great is their task. They must protect the young that grow on the sides further down the mountain; they must hold back the destroying powers of the storm, that the grand and beautiful scions of this forest family be not injured. They have learned, through many courageous engagements with Nature’s fierce winters, that the post appointed them in life can never offer them soft and gentle treatment while there remains such work as theirs to do, work that needs tried strength and brave endurance.

“I have never found a coward growing in the ranks of the closely-linked, shoulder-to-shoulder front of trees that mark the timber-line. Although they may not seem to grow, materially, more than from eight to twelve feet high, and though many look deformed by the overwhelming conditions, so that they present strange shapes in comparison with the erect tall giants down the mountainside, yet I love to remember that in His perfect Creation, these same fighters have won greatness and eternal beauty for their service to others.

“In most cases, you will find that the higher the altitude of the peak and the wilder the winds, the closer grow the trees, as if to find increase of strength in the one united front that they present to the storms. These winter gales are so powerful that they tear at every object offering resistance to their destructive force. Thus the limbs growing on the outer side of the trees on timber-line are all torn away, or twisted back upon the parent trunk.

“But there are times when even the most valiant defenders of the forest are momentarily overpowered. There comes a blizzard; the gale howls and shrieks as it tears back and forth for days at a stretch, trying to force a passage through the defence line. And sometimes a little soldier is rooted up with malignant fury, and used by the merciless gale to batter at his companions. This generally proves futile, however.

“It is not always in the wintertime that the most terrific blizzards occur in the Rockies. In July, when all the country is pining for a breeze, these peaks produce blizzards that surpass anything heard of in winter, and these summer storms are the most destructive, as the trees are green and full of tender tips, that are ruthlessly torn off during the gale.

“Then, too, the summer months generally produce the awful snowslides you hear about, that are quite common in the Rockies.”

“Oh, I wish we could see one of them!” exclaimed Julie, impulsively.

“Child, you don’t know what you are saying!” said Mr. Gilroy, earnestly. “If you ever went through one, as I have, you’d never want to experience another, I assure you.”

“Oh, Gilly! Do tell us about it,” cried the scouts.

And Mr. Vernon added, “Yes, Gilroy, do tell us the story.”

“It was many years ago, while I was on a geological trip through the Rockies. Tally and I were ready to start for a several days’ outing on the peaks when the man we lodged with said, ‘You are going out at a bad time. Some big slides have been reported recently.’

“I, like Julie here, said, ‘I’d like the excitement of riding a slide.’

“The rancher said I was locoed, but he went about his business after that. So I took my snowshoes in case I met a slide and had to ride it.

“Tally and I were soon climbing the trail, and as we went higher and higher, I felt pleasantly excited to see several small slides start from distant peaks and ride ruthlessly over everything to gain a resting-place.

“Then we both heard a rumble and stood looking about. We now beheld a slide quite close at hand—on our own ridge but on the far side. It coasted slowly at first, but gathered momentum as it went, until it was flying downwards.

“It was about fifty feet wide and several hundred feet long, but it cut a clean channel through the forest, carrying great trees, rocks, and other objects on its crest. Before it had traveled five hundred yards, it had gathered into its capacious maw tons of débris, besides the vast blanket of snow it started out with. All this made a resistless force that swept over other forest impedimenta, dragging all along with its flood.

“It looked as if the village that snuggled at the foot of the mountain would be completely smothered and destroyed, when suddenly, the entire river of white was deflected by an erosion that had cut a wayward pathway across the mountainside. This attracted the slide down into the ravine. And as its mass went over the edge of the gulch, fine powdery particles filled the air, but nothing more than a dull, grinding sound rose to me as a tremor shook the ground, and I realized that it had found its end in the canyon.

“Upon my return to the ranch, I was told that that slide had cut down and ruined fifty thousand fine trees. Nothing could be done with them after such a battle with the slide.

“But the next day, as I still thrilled with the memory of the immense slide, I heard a rumbling sound just above where we were. Tally screamed, ‘Look out. She come!’

“I saw snow sliding across a shallow depression above, and heading straight for me. Tally had managed to scramble quickly out of the way, and I worked those snowshoes faster than anything I ever did before or since—believe me!

“Before I could reach a safety zone, however, I was caught in the outer edge of the avalanche and whirled along for some distance. By dint of working those same snowshoes I managed to gain the extreme edge, where I flung myself recklessly out into space, not knowing where I might land.

“Fortunately, I was left sprawling with legs and arms about a pine, while the slide rioted on without me. I lifted my bruised head because I wished to see all I could of it, and I was able to witness the havoc it wrought in its descent. When it reached the bottom of the mountain it collided with a rocky wall on an opposite cliff. The first meeting of the snow with this powerful resistance curled it backward upon itself, while the rest of the slide piled up on top, and quickly filled the narrow valley with its débris.

“Had I not been so near the line of least suction, or had I been in the middle of that fearful slide, nothing could have saved me. I should have been buried under tons of snow even if I survived a death-dealing blow from a rock or tree during the descent.

“Now, Julie, do you still care to experience a hand-to-hand battle with a slide?”

“If it wasn’t for all such thrilling adventures, Gilly, you wouldn’t be so entertaining. When one is in the Rockies, one looks for experiences that go with the Rockies,” declared the girl.

Mr. Gilroy shook his head as if to say Julie was hopeless. But Joan laughingly remarked, “A snowslide wouldn’t be any wilder than Julie’s visit to old man Good Arrow in his castle.”

“And about as frightful as the pit he would have thrown Julie into,” added Mr. Gilroy.

“Joking aside, Scouts. We expect to meet with various thrilling adventures during our sojourn in the Rockies, and I don’t believe one takes such dire risks if one is careful,” said Julie.

“Maybe not, but you are not careful. In fact, you take ‘dire risks’ every time,” retorted Mr. Gilroy.

Nothing was said for a few minutes, then Tally spoke, “Mees’r Gilloy—him come to Boulder, pooty quick!”

“Ha, that’s good news!” remarked Mr. Vernon.

“Yes, and our little scheme worked fine, eh, Uncle,” laughed Mr. Gilroy. But all the coaxings from the scouts could not make either man say what that scheme had been.

At Boulder the party gladly left the wagon for Tally to deliver to his brother, and the horses were turned over to the man they were intended for. While Tally was waiting for his brother’s arrival, Mr. Gilroy found he could conduct his party through the Boulder Canyon, known as “The Switzerland Trail.”

So they got on a train and rode through a canyon which, as the name suggested, was everywhere lined with great boulders of all shapes and sizes. Here a roaring torrent would cleave a way down to the bottom of the canyon, while there an abrupt wall of rock defied the elements and all things else to maintain its stand.

At Tungsten, the end of the trail, the scouts visited the district where this metal is mined. When they were through with the visit, Mr. Gilroy told the girls that Boulder County’s record of income from tungsten alone was more than five million dollars a year.

The State University at Boulder was visited upon the return of the scout tourists to that city. Here the girls learned that the campus covered over sixty acres of ground, and that the university boasted of twenty-two splendidly equipped buildings, equal to any in the world. It also had a library of its own that numbered about eighty-three thousand volumes. The value of the buildings approximated one million, seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

“It doesn’t seem possible, when you look around at what this place is—or seems to be!” exclaimed Ruth.

“Which goes to prove that appearances are not necessarily harmonious with facts,” returned Mrs. Vernon, smilingly.

When they met Tally, who was waiting at the place appointed, Julie asked, “Where do we go from here, Gilly?”

“We’ll follow Tally, as he seems to have a plan back of that grin,” returned Mr. Gilroy.

Every one turned to look at Tally, who in turn seemed quite taken by surprise, as he said, “Tally no plan!”

“Ah, Tally! Will you never understand my winks!” sighed Mr. Gilroy. “I wanted you to help me out while I evaded an issue with these dreadful Scouts.”

“Um, Tally glad to if Mees’r Gilloy onny tell him.”

The others laughed at this guileless confession, and Mr. Gilroy shook his head despairingly. Then he said, “Well, I suppose I must ’fess up.’”

“Of course, if you have any hidden schemes back in your brain,” Julie retorted.

“This is it! Tally heard of a number of excellent horses to be had from a rancher near Loveland, so rather than wait about here for him to go and bring them back, we will go on to Loveland by train, and start from that place to ride through the Rocky Mountain National Park.

“You see, my first plan is entirely upset by a prairie schooner, an Indian, and a horse-dealer. I had expected to ride from Denver on horses secured there, and go to Ward. Then on across the Divide and so on to Hot Sulphur Springs and Steamboat Springs. But it seems the itinerary revised itself,—and it may turn out to be a good improvement on mine,” said Mr. Gilroy.

“How far is the Continental Divide from Loveland?” asked Joan.

“That all depends on how far we want it to be,” laughed Mr. Vernon. “One can get there in no time, or one can stop at all the attractive points along the trail and spend weeks reaching the Divide.”

Then Mr. Gilroy added, “I propose leaving Loveland by an old Indian Trail Tally knows of, and thus reach Estes Park. We will take in Long’s Peak on the way, and then ride on to the Divide, stopping to climb any peak we think interesting, or visit any park or moraine along the route.”

So the party reached Loveland, where Tally bargained shrewdly with a rancher for the horses and two mules for the tourists. Naturally the rancher wished to sell his horses outright, but Tally convinced him how much better an arrangement it would be for all concerned to rent the animals for the season, leaving a cash security deposited with a bank to cover the loss in case any or all of the horses were lost or injured on the way. If all were returned to the rancher in good condition, Mr. Gilroy would receive his deposit back.

This entire section of Colorado was created a National Park by Congress, in January, 1915. And Estes Park is to the National Park what a beauty patch is to the face of a belle—the point of attraction that focuses the eye of the admirer.

This National Park offers plenty of room for more than a million campers, without one being so near his neighbor as to give a sense of encroachment. For those Americans who love the untrammeled life of the woods, this park provides wonderful trout streams; flora and fauna most surprising and beautiful; and not only plains, valleys, ravines, and mountain peaks as diverting places to visit, but lakes, rivers, falls, and every ideal spot of Nature that one craves to see.

In this National Park you may come unexpectedly upon a caribou grazing on the luscious grass, or in spring you may find a doting she-bear, leading her cubs to feast on the tender green shoots. But let your boots make the slightest noise, both these wild creatures will disappear so suddenly that you will rub your eyes to make sure you are awake. Other furred and feathered inhabitants of the forests will sit, screened behind the foliage and fern, laughing silently at your amateur ways of discovering them.

You may not be woodsman enough ever to spy them, but they are about, just the same. Furtive eyes will watch your every movement as you ride along the trail. The partridge that has effaced himself by merging his mottled feathers with the shaggy bark where he is hidden, saw every least thing you did. The wild hare, covered with tall grasses and fern, flicked his long ears in fun, when your awkward steps passed within an inch of his nose, and you never dreamed of his sitting there! The squirrels and woodchucks wondered at your clumsy ways in the wilderness. Did they not leap and run joyously without a sound? And you only have two feet to manage while they have four! In short, every denizen of the forest about you will know as if the message were flashed by wire, that a mere MAN is on his way through their domains.

The Park realm stretches along on the mountain top at an altitude of nine thousand feet, and more. And it embraces the most rugged section of the Continental Divide. Long’s Peak rises about fourteen thousand two hundred feet high, and towers above the park plateau. It looks down upon ten or more other peaks that are only thirteen thousand feet high, and many more of twelve thousand feet altitude. Long’s Peak is rocky and not easy to climb, but perfectly safe for man or beast. It is also free from the treacherous ice and snow that so often causes slides. Hence one can reach its summit, where a view of over a hundred miles of country is to be had. The Park is about twenty-five miles long and from ten to twenty miles wide.

This, then, was the wonderful place the scouts of Dandelion Troop were to visit and glory in.

CHAPTER FIVE—HITTING THE TRAIL

The horses Tally had contracted for were all the tourists could desire. They were sure-footed and experienced mountain climbers; they could go without food or water for a longer period than ordinary animals, as they had been so accustomed. They were not heavy, but wiry and muscular,—in short, the genuine ranch horse of the Rocky Mountains. The two pack mules, named Frolic and Jolt, were sleepy-looking beasts, but it was only in appearance. Once they started on the trail they proved splendid carriers, even though they took life their own way.

The little cavalcade left the hotel at Loveland the center of curious eyes, for the summer tourists stopping at the inn had heard of the well-known geologist and the Troop of Scouts. As few members of the interesting organization of Girl Scouts had ever been through the Rockies, this Troop created quite a diversion for visitors.

Tally soon turned from the beaten track that most tourists take in going to Estes Park, and led his party to the old abandoned Indian Trail. Finally they came to a cool shadowy thread of a path that could be distinguished only because the trees were not closely interlocked each with the others.

At this hour the forest was like the translucence of the sea, bathing everything in the cool green light of its depths; and the exhilarating effect was the same as the salt tang of an ocean bath.

“Makes one feel as if one were in church at Vesper time,” softly declared Julie, glancing at the arched aisles they were riding through.

“Was ever cathedral so solemn, so beautiful, as this of Nature?” replied Mrs. Vernon, in a reverent tone.

Then for another long period all was silence again, as the scouts rode along, breathing in the beauty of the “silent places.” When they had traveled about ten miles along this secret trail, with its ever-changing panorama of scenes, the swishing of a stream was heard. Soon after, the riders came to tumbling waters, that seemed in haste to go over the cliff that caused them to fall into a shadowy pool far below. Great rocks, overhanging pines, and gorgeous flora edged both sides of the waterfall, making a picture impossible to describe.

They descended the steep declivity that skirted the falls and picked up the trail again at the bottom. Here the scouts found several brooks that ran from the pool, but that were entirely separated from the main stream. Tally examined these canals carefully, and then held up a hand for attention.

“Scout hear beaver work? Dis beaver-canal.”

“Oh, really!” whispered the girls, excitedly. “If we could only watch them at work!”

They distinctly heard the “tap, tap, tap” of something softly thudding against wood, while Tally leaned over to speak.

“Mebbe kin see beaver. Leave horse tie here, an’ follow Tally sof’ly to colony. But make some noise an’ beaver dive home.”

The scouts promised to be very careful not to make a sound in following the guide, and so they dismounted to secure the horses and mules until their return from the beaver pond.

The scouts now had their first glimpse of these industrious little workers, that are found in large colonies everywhere throughout the Rocky Mountains. This particular colony had dug the canals from the pool to their pond, which was located in a bowl-like depression of the woods, and there dammed up the outlet. But few marauders passed here, and they lived in peace in their selected home-site.

There was a good growth of aspens all about the section, and these would supply food and lodgings for some time to come. The huts were erected in the middle of the largest pond of the chain. There were several beavers at work cutting the aspens when the party arrived on the edge of the pond, but so keen is the hearing and scent of these harmless animals, that they stopped work instantly, and slipped into the water, swimming unseen until they reached their huts.

“Huh! Dem ’fraid!” ejaculated Tally, with disgust on his face. “Come ’long—us see udder places.”

Then he led through the aspen forest that fringed the pond, and reached the outlet where the dam had been constructed by the beavers. Here the scouts saw a shallow waterfall that fed another canal; this stream ended in another, but smaller, pond than the upper one they had first found. In this pond were a number of large huts, and many beavers at work at the farthest side of the pond.

“I believe they are building another dam, Tally!” exclaimed Mr. Gilroy, under his breath.

“Um—he am. Scout sit and watch.”

So they all sat on the brink of the pond silently watching the busy workers as they cut down trees, dragged them into the water and then swam with them to the dam, where other beavers helped to place the heavy tree trunks in such a manner that any dead wood or débris floating downstream would catch and help to dam up the water.

“Why do they build another pond when there is such a big one above?” asked Betty.

Mr. Gilroy replied, “There is plenty of food for the family that now resides in the huts in the upper pond, but the colony is increasing so fast that they know there will not be room enough, or food enough, for all this winter. Hence they are building now, to provide ample shelter for the future. By starting another dam and thus creating a pond, these wise little woodsmen also secure an area of new aspens that will feed the new colony.

“Those canals that you see running out into the flat land beyond the new pond, are used as water courses to float the trees along into their pond. It is too bad we cannot see a beaver cut an aspen from that growth, and watch him float it until he brings it to its destination at the dam.

“But you can watch, from this vantage point, those old fellows at work. You see that big beaver that sits at one side of the two now cutting—well, he is the boss of that job. It is up to him to choose the best aspens for cutting and order his men to begin work, while he watches. Then when the tree is almost cut through he will warn them away, take up the work himself, and push on the severed trunk until it crashes down in the direction he wishes it to fall.

“You’ll see how clever they are to have the aspen fall as near the water as possible, that they need waste no energy in dragging it over the ground to the pond.”

The scouts watched, and sure enough! The old boss took up the work at a given signal to his two helpers to stand back, and soon after that, the aspen fell, half of it in the water. But the beavers must have heard a suspicious sound just as they were going to drag the tree across the pond, and they scuttled under the water.

Reluctantly the scouts turned away and went back to their horses, which they mounted, and soon they were riding along the way again.

“I never saw such enchanting flowers and gorgeous ferns!” exclaimed the Captain, enthusiastically.

“Um!” came from Tally, proudly, “him got more’n t’ousan’ kin’ flower in park!”

“Really! Oh, that we might secure one of each for a collection!” sighed Julie.

“It would take you longer than this summer to accomplish that,” remarked Mr. Gilroy. “Here you will find some of the rarest orchids, as well as the hardiest kinds, known. Besides, you will find about fifteen species of gentian, the famous blue-fringed gentian among them. The largest columbines ever found grow here; and sweet peas in all conceivable shades of coloring. Not only can you add wonders to the botanical collections that you started in the Adirondacks, but you ought to be able to study many marvelous birds that nest in this primeval park.”

So they rode along, stopping frequently to gather interesting flowers beside the trail, and to admire and watch the birds that could be seen everywhere.

It was during one of these short rests which had been caused by a crested bird of wonderful hue and unfamiliar form, that Joan and Julie, with a camera in hand, pushed a way through the bushes, the better to follow the bird’s movements.

“Joan, you sit down there on that fallen pine and write down notes as I call them off, and I will climb up on top of that huge boulder and get a snapshot at him as he swings from that bough,” said Julie, as she began climbing the rock mentioned.

Once she gained the top, she called back, “Of all the surprises! On the other side of this boulder is a steep descent that drops down to a dark pool. Now who would ever have dreamed there was such a pool behind this rock!”

“Don’t bother about pools or precipices now, Julie, but tell me about that bird, swinging right over your head. He’ll fly away, if you don’t ‘make hay’!” laughed Joan, waiting with pencil suspended over the pad of paper.

The rest of the party had heard Julie’s exclamation, and were urging their horses through the thick forest, nearer the two scouts. Tally jumped from his animal and came in the direction of the boulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the bird they were talking about.

“Jo, I really believe it is a young Rocky Mountain jay—the kind Gilly described to us. He is hopping into the higher branches now, and I can hardly see him,” said Julie.

“Dear me, Julie! If only we could swear that we got a snapshot and description of the jay from actually watching him, what a fine thing it would be when we get home!” sighed Joan.

“Wait—I’ll get out on the far end of this immense rock and try to get a full view of him,” said Julie, moving across the top of the stone to the outer verge of it.

Suddenly the boulder began settling slowly down towards the pool. The soil underneath it had all been washed out by torrential rains, so that it barely hung in position when Julie climbed upon it. Now that she added her weight to its outer side, it began rolling—turning over and over in its heavy descent.

“Oh, oh! Save me, somebody! I’ll be crushed to powder!” screamed Julie, who could not jump from that great height into the jungle, nor could she maintain a footing without doing the liveliest dance of her life.

It was well that the boulder was so heavy, and the pathway it rolled down so soft as to make it sink into the soil and grip a digging hold, as it turned and turned. Had the ground been rocky or the boulder smaller, it would have simply hurled itself into the water, carrying Julie with it.

Now, however, she danced and kept stepping like a trained circus animal does on a barrel to keep it rolling, while Joan cried fearfully, and Tally rushed through the bushes to gain the bottom of the gully. Julie had ceased screaming the moment she saw she was to be catapulted to an unforeseen doom, and now kept her wits about her to plan an escape.

She saw that the rock would settle down in the pool at about the same speed it took in rolling, and then she must be all prepared to spring off from its side, far out into the water, or be sucked underneath when it went down. If the pool was shallow, she would be forced to slide off at the moment the boulder struck and would be left standing up in the water. She must wait to determine the best chance to take.

The time it took from the first starting of the rock down the grade to its striking the water was but a fraction of the time it takes to tell. Suddenly the huge boulder plunged into the quiet-looking pool, churning up the water to a froth, and instantly causing a “tidal wave” to raise the pool far beyond its customary water line and flow up the banks. The water, which had hitherto reflected every leaf and blade hanging over its surface, was so very deep that the monolith sank into its secret heart and was completely submerged.

As the rock sank, Julie sprang, taking her chances in striking something in the pool. But she escaped accident, and swam out of the whirling waters almost before the boulder had disappeared. Tally reached the pool as she jumped, and now flung himself in to help rescue her. She was equal to the test, however, and came up on land, dripping, but exultant and breathless from the dance and swim.

Tally helped her up the deep gully the rock had gouged out in its downward roll; and at the top where she had left Joan, there now stood waiting to embrace her, the entire party of riders. When all crying and hugging was ended, Julie laughed and said:

“Folks, give me a boulder-ride in the Rockies, every time, instead of an ordinary toboggan! Even snowshoes and skis are tame in comparison.”

They laughed because they were so relieved at Julie’s escape, but the Captain exchanged glances with Mr. Gilroy, and both shook their heads in despair of ever taming such a wild creature.

“In future, Julie, leave a Rocky Mountain jay where it hides, and study the colored prints shown in the bird book,” advised Mr. Vernon, who had felt both for himself and his wife the severe nervous strain while the incident was being enacted.

“Oh, Uncle, half the fun of scouting in the Rockies comes from just these experiences. Just think of all we can talk about this winter, when we are hibernating at home!” exclaimed Julie, ready in spirit, at least, for another joy-ride.

They now resumed the trip that had been so unexpectedly interrupted, and came to an elevation in the trail. From this point they had a glorious view of the surrounding peaks in the park. Tally pointed out Long’s Peak, which towered over their heads, and Mt. Meeker alongside it, which appeared almost as high. Mt. Washington and Storm Peak were so closely allied to the first two heights that they looked like four points of the one mountain.

Mr. Gilroy waved his hand to the northwest of Long’s Peak, saying, “All that region is called Glacier Gorge, where we are bound for. There are concentrated the enormous gorges, cliffs, and other glaciated freaks caused by cataclysms that occurred aeons ago. In my opinion, there is no lake, waterfall, or other beauty of the Alps that can compare to this Glacier Gorge, and I have seen them all.”

“If we are so near by, why can’t we visit them all?” asked Joan.

Mrs. Vernon took fright, “Never—with the responsibility for you girls on my hands!”

“But, Verny, if we slip, we won’t be on your hands,—it will be a glaciated scout on an ice-floe,” laughed Julie.

Mr. Gilroy laughed. “And they’ll be safer in glacier fields where they know there is great danger if they are careless, than beside quiet little pools, upon a rock that looks as solid as the planet itself.”

Mrs. Vernon now turned beseeching eyes upon her husband. “Dear, you will persuade Gilly not to lead us into such places?”

“Oh, but Verny!” interpolated Julie. “Do let us go to see at least one glacier!”

“How can you, Julie! When you are the one always getting into trouble!” returned the Captain, wonderingly.

“Don’t I always manage to get out of trouble again without causing any fatality—only amusement for the Troop?”

They all admitted that this was true, and finally the Captain was coaxed to listen to the argument in favor of visiting the glaciers.

“I haven’t the slightest idea of riding past these glaciers and leaving Gilroy to explore them alone,” remarked Mr. Vernon.

“If we agree to tie ourselves to your apron-strings, Verny, will you feel resigned to our going?” asked Julie, meekly.

“If five scouts dangle from my apron-strings, how can I scramble for myself?” laughed the Captain; but the girls knew she was weakening in her former refusal.

With wise looks exchanged between scouts and the two men, the subject was dropped for the time being. So they descended the height where they had obtained such a fine view of the peaks, and rode along the trail that was so heavily screened by forest trees as to cast a gloaming underneath them, even in the brightest sunshine.

“Gilly, how came these vast mountains here?” asked Judith.

“Yes, Gilly, why are they not scattered impartially over the land?” added one of the other scouts.

“While we are traveling along a good trail, let me tell you what I have gathered from scientific books on the subject,” returned Mr. Gilroy.

“It is evident that the Rockies were the first points of land to lift a head above the sea of water when the American Continent was born. As often happens in the families of mankind, where the youngest-born embraces all the points of beauty and abilities that are manifested in individual allotments to all other members of the same family, so it is with Nature’s mountain-children.

“The Rockies, being the youngest born of mountain ranges of the earth, inherited, as it were, the combined beauty and strength and characteristics that were the best in all the others. But there was no jealousy on the part of the older mountains of earth, and it is doubtful if any one of them even knew of this new-comer to the family group. Each had all it could do with its own affairs, in those by-gone cycles.

“Of Earth’s large family of mountains, the first-born to lift a head from sleep on the bosom of the ‘mighty waters’ were the British Isles. They were not high or mighty in geography, but they were destined to raise the highest and mightiest race of people on earth.

“Then the Norseland awoke, and yawned so widely, that the pinnacles of its jagged shore-lines instantly molded themselves into barriers to protect the land from the inundation of the sea. Then while this awakening took place, the marvelous Antilles sat up from the cradle of the ocean and cried to Mother Nature to be lifted out of their bed. And Nature, who abhors a vacuum, gave her eager help to South America.

“Having given birth to these fine prominences, Nature seemed disinclined to cease from her creative activity. She believed it best to finish the allotted number of children, and then raise them all together. So the mountains of Labrador appeared, closely followed by the Atlantic Coast mountains.

“Then something happened in the bowels of the earth-planet that caused it to swallow so much salt-water from the seas that had covered its surface, that the great ranges of the Rockies stood up.

“Aeons passed during this great upheaval, and aeons more passed before islands dotted the ‘face of the waters’ and God said ‘Let there be’ and there was!

“It is said that the tremendous struggle in the womb of Mother Earth to give birth to the Rockies was Nature’s hardest labor. As we gaze on the result of the mighty upheaval that has given us these wonderful mountains, does not your imagination paint ’cause and effect’ better than mere words ever can?”

With many eager questions from the scouts, about cataclysms, glaciers, volcanoes, and other forces that helped build the dry land above the face of the seas, and with Mr. Gilroy’s lucid and interesting descriptions of such work, the party reached the beautiful tract known as Estes Park.

“Here’s where we camp for the night, Scouts,—unless you have something more important to do,” announced Mr. Gilroy.

They laughed. “Now, Gilly! What more important date is there than to eat a good supper,” added Anne.

The scouts teased her at that, but Mr. Vernon said, “I have an important date for those who will go with me.”

He took up his fishing tackle, and instantly the scouts signified their eagerness to “keep the date” he had with the fish. Mr. Gilroy remained with Tally to look after camp arrangements and unload the mules. Then the horses and mules were turned out to pasture, while supper was prepared.

Because of the heavily wooded country they were to go through, Tally had not bothered to carry any tentpoles. It was an easy matter to run the ropes through the eyelets of the canvas, and string up the shelter to handy tree trunks. Hence the tents were up, and Mrs. Vernon was asked to weave the balsam beds upon the ground, inside them, before the girls returned.

Fuel was plentiful and a fire was soon burning, whereby supper could be cooked. Tally now began preparing his various dishes for the meal, while the Captain spread out the cloth on the grass for a table.

So excellent is the fishing in these forests, that the two camp-cooks had not had time to complete baking the bread-twist, or boil the potatoes, before the anglers arrived with a fine mess of fish. These were cleaned and placed in the large frying-pan where red-and-white streaked slices of bacon were crisping.

The savory odor that soon arose to mingle with the immediate surrounding air made every one sniff audibly, and wish supper was ready to eat. While the Captain added the finishing touches to the supper, she remarked to the scouts:

“I keep brushing so many little black insects from the cloth, and yet they seem to swarm about more than ever. Ask Tally what I can do to drive them away.”

Mr. Gilroy overheard her, and replied, “I guess we are in for a plague of midges. No use trying to get rid of them by hand, and no use moving camp, as they infest the woods all about, when they do appear; and they last, sometimes, for several days, then they disappear as suddenly as they came.”

As the scouts began to scratch at faces, necks, and limbs, Tally remarked, encouragingly: “De’s not so badder.”

“I hope you don’t raise any worse pests than these in your Rockies!” cried Ruth, her hands and face red from irritation.

“Jus’ wait. De’se meegies go wid sun, but moskeet—he come an’ sing all night, an’ bite all same.”

In spite of the discomfort the little black imps caused, the scouts had to laugh at Tally’s form of condolence. Evidently he, with his tough skin, preferred midges to songsters at night.

“Why should they swarm about now, when we never saw one on the way here?” asked Joan, in an aggrieved tone.

“It’s going to rain, and that always drives them up from the underbrush and wet places where they live during the dry hours,” explained Mr. Gilroy.

He had been occupied in crushing caribou leaves between his palms, and now the scouts turned to watch him. When he had extracted the juice from the leaves, he showed the girls how he rubbed it over his neck, face, and arms. This was very effective to keep away the pests for a time; but one had to keep on rubbing the fresh leaf-juice on the skin at intervals because the moisture evaporated with the heat from the body.

Supper—and it was a delicious one—over, Mr. Gilroy said to the guide, “Tally, we’ve got to make a smudge fire all right.”

“Um!” agreed Tally, “see tent; him all cover wid bites.”

The girls laughed at the Indian’s graphic words, for the canvas was black with pests,—mosquitoes and black flies, as well as the midges.

Every available pan was requisitioned for use as braziers. And movable smokes, that Tally manufactured of pine shavings, smudged with damp material, effectively fumigated the camp and drove away most of the insects. But the scouts had to wave balsam fans quite vigorously to make the choking smoke that circled about them eddy away.

Tally arranged a chain of these smudge-fires about the camp ground, and provided elaborate means of keeping the pests away through the night. But all precautions were useless when the mean little mosquitoes got in between the open places in the canvas, and began their songs. Every one was healthily tired, though, and all the needlelike thrusts of the insects could not keep the girls awake.

In the morning, Julie said, “What should we have done if Tally had not smoked away millions of the creatures!”

And Joan said, “Why, infinitesimal atoms of Dandelion Troop would now be flying all over Estes Park to await Judgment Day!”