As he sat munching the mouthful of rabbit, blinking at nothing in particular, Tally suddenly jerked his head sideways and took a searching look at the beast. Then he leaned over and whispered to Omney so softly that Julie could not hear a sound.

Omney now stared at the bear in unbelief, but after gazing keenly, soon nodded his head anxiously. Then, in another moment, two rifles were silently levelled, and two shots rang out. The grizzly rolled over while the rabbit still remained half-chewed in his great maw.

“O Tally! Shame on you!” cried Julie, furiously.

The scouts now slid down the treetrunks and ran over. Each one had a protest to register against the heartlessness of the Indians. But they were over by the bear, turning him over on his side.

“Him be Devil-Bear!” exclaimed Tally, excitedly.

“Um! Bump on haid, scar on rump!” added Omney.

“What do you mean, boys?” now asked Mrs. Vernon.

The scouts saw a great knob on one side of the bear’s head, and an old scar that cleft his left hind-quarter almost in two.

“Dis ole Devil-Bear come down all time to ranches, kill calf, eat lamb, carry off ennything, an’ nobuddy ketch him. Evehbud’ hunt and shoot, but Devil-Bear quick an’ get away. He climb glacier, go over peaks, live evehwhere.

“Sometime him in Flat Top, nudder time him down in Wyom. One time he run in Denver, kill horse, scare evehbuddy away, den run back to Flat Top.” Tally laughed at the last memory.

“Him steal cattle, even fight ranchers, so big reward out fer him,” added Omney.

“How can you be sure you have killed this demon?” asked Mrs. Vernon, eagerly.

“We hear ’bout Devil-Bear and pickshers nail on all signboard for reward. Big scar in rump, big lump on haid—him got ’em,” Tally replied.

“Um! Dis scar make by rancher. One day he chop wood and fine sheep-dog play round. Devil-Bear steal out of woods, catch dog unner man’s nose, and run away. Rancher so mad he frow axe at bear, an’ it hit right there,” explained Omney, poking his foot at the scar on the bear.

“Rancher say dat bear neveh walk gin, but nex’ year nudder rancher see bear kill calf an’ many lamb and run away,” added Tally.

“Then I’m glad you shot him!” declared Betty, glaring at the dead beast.

“But you’ve got to get him back to camp, boys, to get the reward,” said Mrs. Vernon.

The two Indians considered this the least of their problems, and when they had tied the forelegs and the hindlegs together, they swung the heavy animal from a long pole they had cut down from a clump of pine.

That night when Mr. Gilroy heard the story, he assured the scouts that the guides had really done a great service to the country at large, as this bear had terrorized every one in the mountain ranches.

“As a rule, grizzlies are not ferocious except when interfered with. They use their fine intelligence to keep man at a safe distance with their roaring and display of fierce strength. But this rascal was the exception, and it’s well he is dead,” added he.

“If the guides get the reward, the scouts ought to have the pelt,” suggested Mr. Vernon.

“I’ll see to it that they do,” returned Mr. Gilroy.

The Indians made quick work of skinning the beast and leaving the head on the body so the bump could be identified. The bear fat was tried out and saved by the guides, and several fine steaks were carved from the carcass and broiled, but the girls refused them.

The men had no such qualms, however, and ate greedily, then smacked their lips laughingly at the disgust manifested on the scouts’ faces.

“Devil-Bear good eat!” chuckled Tally, as he wrapped the remaining steaks in a paper for another time.

When the campers resumed their ride, Devil-Bear—or all that was left of him—was packed on Jolt’s back. The mule cared not a fig for a dead bear, so the skin was carried along without demur, although the horses now and then caught a whiff of the bear-pelt and tossed their heads nervously.

The trail up Flat Top Mountain proved as wonderful as it had promised to be. The scouts rode their horses without a tremor, although at times they went on narrow ledges, forded roaring streams, or plunged down through gulches, and over down-timber. They steadily climbed all that day, and towards night were on Flat Top—twelve thousand, three hundred feet high.

Mr. Gilroy reached his desired Tyndall Glacier, and so delighted was he that he acted like a boy with a new toy. Here they camped for a few days while the scientist collected some interesting bits, then the party continued to the very top of the mountain.

From this summit the scouts could see over the entire country for miles around. Estes Park looked like a tiny city park from that height. And Long’s Peak appeared on a line with their sight. They could plainly see Stone’s and Taylor’s Peaks, and also Mt. Hallett, while several famous lakes,—Mills, Bierstadt, Dream, and others—were seen gleaming like sheets of blue ice down in the hollows between the crags.

Fresh camp was pitched that night under the shadow of a gigantic column of jagged rock that rose perpendicularly above the tableland of the peak. The base of the rock was about a quarter of a mile around, but one side of the monolith dropped sheer down to a cliff a thousand feet below. From that ledge it again dropped down to another rocky resting-spot hundreds of feet lower. Thence it went straight down three thousand feet to the bottom of its stand, where it found a firm footing in the valley.

As every one was tired with the climb of the day, they were soon fast asleep on the fragrant balsam beds, and slept until the snorting of the horses roused the Indians, and then they, in turn, called to the others to get up.

CHAPTER TWELVE—LOST IN A BLIZZARD

It was early dawn but such dark clouds obscured everything that the scouts thought it still was night.

“Bad storm blowin’, Mees’r Gilloy. Us hurry down f’om here,” said Tally, anxiously.

“All right—all up, and hurry away!” shouted Mr. Gilroy, running for the horses, to help Omney saddle them for the ride.

Soon thereafter, without stopping to attend to any of their customary toilets, the scouts were in the saddles and quickly following the guides down the trail on the opposite side from that they had mounted the day before.

The blackness was now so thick that it was difficult to see any one ten feet ahead, and the girls could not see the trail at all. Then Tally suddenly shouted a warning to those behind him.

“Huddle togedder—blizzer comin’ down now!”

And in a few seconds, an unexpected breaking of the clouds drove thick smothery, enveloping snow across the plateau. Even the heavy clouds seemed to choke everything in their folds. The wind, which blew a gale, uprooted trees and flicked them out of the way as if they were snips of paper. Gusts of the mad tornado tore off great masses of the dark clouds and, eddying them about, whirled the vapor out of them, away down the sides of the mountain. Trees, rocks, clods of earth, everything movable that presented an obstacle to the gale, was carried away like thistledown.

The poor horses and pack-mules crouched close together, with heads low, making of their bodies as scant a resistance as possible against the storm, and at the same time providing shelter, with their steaming bodies, for the human beings who huddled under them.

Then, as suddenly as the storm broke, it ceased. A weird light played over the plateau for a time, and Mr. Gilroy noted the worried expressions of the Indians.

“What now, Tally?”

“Us clim’ saddles, stick gedder an’ must get away!” shouted Tally, trying to be heard above the soughing of the wind, that was now blowing from behind the crag.

Even as the riders tried to get into the saddles and start after Tally, a chill filled the air. It crept into bones and marrow, and in a few minutes the full fury of the blizzard was felt. In less than five minutes after the first snow fell, everything was drifted under white blankets. The cold bit into human flesh like sharp points of steel, and it was certain that every one must get down from that altitude immediately or be frozen to death.

The Indians led the way, although they trusted their safety on these mountains entirely to the horses and their wonderful sense. The other riders tried to follow as closely as they could in the tracks made by the first two horses. Then as they descended further from the plateau, the storm abated and the temperature felt warmer, until they reached the place where dripping snow from all the tree branches and rocks thoroughly soaked the unfortunates.

The mountainside was cut up by ravines and gulches, or “draws” as they are called, made by erosion of mountain streams that came from the glacier on top of Flat Top.

From one of these draws the scouts could look down for miles to a place where it widened out through the velocity of the roaring waters and unearthed everything in its floods.

Here and there great pines had fallen across and formed natural bridges over the chasms. At other spots the roots or branches of a tree washed down, would catch in the débris of the sides of a draw, obstructing the way and holding up great masses of waste that accumulated rapidly about the twisted limbs, when the torrent washed everything against this comb, that caught the larger objects.

So the file of riders went carefully downward, on the watch for a favorable trail that might lead them to the valley. But every draw they found was so forbidding that they were repulsed from trying it. Some showed great rocks that might roll down at the slightest motion of the ground, and crush everything in their plunge. Even as they pondered the chance of going down one of these, the water caused by the melting snow loosened the grip of a great fragment of rock held up in the gorge, and down it crashed! Other draws displayed century-old snags, and down-timber that lay half-sunken in slimy ooze which trickled down from the mossy sides of the gully; these would suck in any horse or rider that was daring enough to try and go over them.

Finally, Tally came to a draw which was not nearly so forbidding as the others, but it was a very deep chasm, and sent up echoes of roaring water in its bottom.

“Wad yuh tink, Omney—do we try him?” asked Tally.

“Tally, it looks terrifying!” gasped Mrs. Vernon.

“Not so bad as udder ones,” remarked Tally.

“Must we go down any of them?” asked Mr. Vernon.

“Mebbe we not find trail for two—four day, and grub mos’ gone,” returned Tally, meaningly.

“We’ve got to trust to Tally’s guidance, pards, so let us do exactly as he thinks best,” added Mr. Gilroy.

Feeling somewhat dubious about the outcome of this ride, the two Indians led down the steep sides of the gulch. The horses slipped, stumbled, and scrambled through the piled-up rubbish until it was a marvel that they had not broken legs and necks. The débris carried down by the streams that emptied into the torrents at the bottom of the draw, formed almost impassable barriers to going onward. But the day was breaking, and this cheered every one tremendously. Soon the darkness would be entirely dispelled and they could see just where the horses were stepping.

“I’m so hungry I could almost eat this leather harness,” remarked Anne, sighing.

“Maybe we might catch something for an early breakfast, if we knew where to give our horses a stand while we hunted,” said Ruth.

Then, suddenly, they heard a crash of branches and rolling rocks, and there, outlined against the pale sky, stood a giant elk with head erect and ears attentive to the sounds from these riders. It was the first one the scouts had seen, and it was such a magnificent animal that a sight of it was thrilling.

The elk waited with great antlers reared to their extreme height, long sensitive nose sniffing the air, and legs stiffened ready for a leap. The Captain drew the camera from a side-pocket of the saddle and planned to get a picture. But the wary animal heard the click of the shutter and sprang fully fifteen feet across the chasm to gain a ledge of rock that hung dangerously out.

Every one gasped as he waited to see it miss footing, or roll down with the crag that surely would topple over with such added weight upon it. But the elk must have known its trail, for it lightly touched upon the rock, then vanished over the rim of the top.

“There goes our venison steaks for breakfast!” sighed Julie, making the others laugh in spite of their troubles.

The sides of the canyon near the bottom were filled with dangerous sink-holes, or bogs, that were a constant menace to the riders. For let a horse slip into one of these and he might be sucked down instantly. But the animals were sure-footed and accustomed to such rough traveling, and they instinctively avoided all soft soil. Ever and anon, a horse would slip on a rolling stone, or a hoof would break through rotten timber, so that the scouts were being constantly jolted one side or another.

Finally they found better going along a narrow ledge that looked like an old trail. But it began nowhere and ended—well, it terminated suddenly just ahead of Tally’s next step!

“Back! Back!” yelled Tally, dragging on the reins with all his might.

That effectually halted the others, who were so close behind him, and Mr. Vernon leaned over to ask, “What is it, Tally?”

“Big hole—she go down mebbe fifty feet to bottom. Gotta back out and go round nudder way.”

“Oh, mercy sakes! Back out all along this narrow ledge?” cried the scouts.

But while they spoke, Jolt passed them, going on the verge of the ledge, and causing every one to tremble for his life. When he was passing Tally, the guide shouted angrily, “Whoa! Whoa!”

But Jolt acted exactly like a sleep-walker does. He paid no attention to sight or sound, and in another moment he would have walked right over the edge of the precipice, had not Tally jumped from his saddle and caught hold of the guide rope that had been tied to his halter before entering the gully.

This slight hold, however, did not save the mule from disappearing over the verge of the cliff, and it almost yanked Tally over, too. The only thing that saved the guide was Omney, who jumped to assist his friend when Jolt went by. The rope was instantly wound about a tree stump and braced. Then Tally climbed warily to safety, before the loose shale should crumble in with his weight.

Every one had been speechless with horror a moment before, but now every one spoke with loosened tongue.

“The mule had all the food-stuffs,” said Anne.

“And the camp outfit as well,” added Mr. Vernon.

“Just think of the poor thing—down there crushed to bits,” wept Betty.

Some felt sorry for Jolt, and some felt sorry for themselves. Then Tally said, “Eef light scout crawl ober an’ tell what her see Jolt doin’, mebbe we save him.”

Betty was the lightest so she offered her services. She was tied securely to one of the ropes that hung on the saddle-horn, and Tally advised her what to do.

“Crawl to edge, look down. Tell what Jolt do, or eef he mashed in bottom!”

So Betty crept slowly over the shale and reached the edge of the ravine. She peered down, and the sunlight that shone through the trees just then, helped her to see plainly.

“Jolt’s standing on a wide ledge of rock about twenty feet lower than this one. His packs are gone—guess they tumbled down when the straps burst open. But there isn’t any spare room for him to exercise on,” reported Betty.

“Did you say he was standing upon his feet?” asked Mr. Gilroy, unbelievingly.

“Yes, with his head facing towards the outlet of this chasm. He hears me talking, ’cause I see him prick up his long ears.”

“Al’ light,” said Tally, joyfully. “Tell me, do ledge end in hole like dis-a-one do?”

“No, it looks as if it ran right down to the valley, Tally. I can see the sunlight down at the end, about a mile away.”

That caused great joy in each heart, and Tally said, “Al’light, now come back.”

So the scout crawled back, while Tally spoke with Omney and planned what to do. The result of this conversation was then apparent.

Tally tied a long rope to his own waist, and Omney began paying out the rope as the Indian went over the edge of the gulch. Every one held his breath to wait developments. Then they heard Tally shout, “Al’light—le’ go.”

“Now us back out—Tally ride Jolt down valley,” announced Omney.

“O Hominy! Do you think the mule is all right?” cried Ruth.

“Tally say so. Us go back now.” So back they went in every sense of the word—back along the ledge, and backwards all the way.

The horses climbed the rocky slope and went along the top-side of the chasm, but it was no better adapted for comfortable riding than the bottom had been. After an hour of dreadful jumps and jolts and slips, the riders came out to the valley that Betty had spoken of, at the end of the draw.

There stood Tally, grinning with good news. “Fine camp!”

“But where is Jolt?” demanded the scouts.

“Him dockered up wid bear-grease, bandages, an’ herb!’ laughed Tally, pointing to a place where they could see a mule taking things easy on the grass.

“Got packs out, Tally?” asked Omney.

“Us go in get ’em now, Omney. Scouts make camp an’ we come back wid grub, pooty soon.”

So the two guides rode in through the chasm again, along the bottom beside the river, and the scouts rode on to make camp where Tally had directed them.

There the scouts found one of the most interesting shelters of all on that camping-trip. It was discovered under the wide overspreading boughs of a clump of firs which had so grown that a perfectly clear and covered area in the center provided a Nature-made house.

While Ruth and Betty were ordered to clean up the sticks and stones on the ground under the trees, the other girls gathered balsam and made the beds. The two men went to fish, and the Captain built a good fire to cook the combination breakfast and dinner, as it was now long past noon.

Tally and Omney came back after a long absence, but they had the packs, a little the worse for the fall, to be sure.

“I see this is the last can of soup and our last can of beans,” ventured Mrs. Vernon, when she opened the food-pack.

“Um! Us know rancher—plenty grub in him lodge,” said Tally, significantly. Everybody laughed at his wink that accompanied the words.

The ride from Flat Top had been so strenuous that the scouts camped that night in the fir-tree lodge, as they had called it. All retired early, as they hoped to make a start at dawn in order to reach the rancher’s, where Tally said he could buy a stock of food.

But a number of timber wolves howled about the camp all the night through, keeping the tired travelers half-awake. Towards dawn they must have followed another scent, as all was quiet in the forests thereafter.

The Captain was startled out of a sound sleep by a strange “s-swish”—close to her ear. Springing up with the remembrance of the wolves, she heard Tally whisper through the pine-boughs, “Tell scout come see caribou in valley.”

In a few moments every one was up and out of the tree-lodge. The scouts saw the men crouching down behind a large boulder that stood near the verge of a steep descent to the green valley below. The curious girls soon joined them and then witnessed a most unusual sight.

Down in the valley, several hundred yards away, was a herd of caribou grazing on the juicy grass. A fine buck with antlers spreading far from each side of his head, jumped about as if worked by springs. If a cow got in his way he stamped his polished hoofs and threatened her with his flattened horns.

But the cows seemed not to mind such idle threats on the part of the bull, and continued grazing.

Julie laughed. “They’re suffrage caribou—they know how a male talks fine but seldom does what he brags about!”

This started an animated argument between Mr. Gilroy and the Scout Leader, which was suddenly hushed by the behavior of the buck. He lifted his nose, sniffed angrily and stamped his hoof in token that he resented any interference with his family’s breakfast.

“What’s the matter with him?” asked Joan in a whisper.

“Maybe he scented human beings watching him,” suggested Anne.

Tally shook his head, but in another moment the scouts learned what had caused his annoyance. He now sounded a warning to the cows, and they all lifted their heads instantly and sniffed as the buck had done.

“Dear me, I hope they won’t run away,” wished Ruth, and then she saw that they would not run—they would defend themselves.

From out the dark fringe of forest there now crept a number of lean hungry timber-wolves, looking like long grey shadows of the trees. So slowly and noiselessly did they move that only animals trained to defend themselves in the wilderness would have known an enemy was so close at hand.

As they moved, the four men silently lifted their rifles, and waited for the signal from Tally to shoot.

“Are those the wolves we heard last night?” asked Julie.

“Most likely, or some like them,” returned Mr. Gilroy, in a whisper that only those next him could hear.

“Um! t’ree of ’em—get reward fur dem coyotes!” grinned Omney.

The caribou, warned in time by the bull, saw the skulking beasts creeping, creeping like the shadows towards them, and they instantly formed their defence, as they always do in case of extreme danger when it is wiser to fight than to fly.

With their hind legs closed together like the center of a wheel, and their heads presenting antlers pointing towards the enemy like bayonets on the defence line in a battle, the herd stood perfectly still and waited.

“Wonderful sight!” breathed Mrs. Vernon.

“Oh, for that camera! It is in the duffel-bag,” sighed Julie.

But the scene now grew too exciting for any scout to yearn over forgotten kodaks, for the wolves were almost near enough to begin their raid. The four rifles still pointed directly at them, but the signal was not yet forthcoming. Tally knew when to fire.

Just as the foremost wolf rose on his hind legs to hurl himself at the caribou nearest him, and the bull bellowed madly and wheeled to attack, Tally signaled. Four spurts of blue and four streaks of red—and three timber wolves rolled over dead!

At the sound of those dire sounds which the bull understood to be as deadly as a wolf, he lifted his snout high in the air, called hastily to his herd, and the wheel broke—the caribou trotted away swiftly and disappeared in the forest.

“That certainly was a sight worth seeing,” sighed the Captain. “But I must hang that camera about my neck, day in and day out, or I shall miss the best pictures every time.”

At breakfast that morning Mr. Gilroy said, “I had planned to cross the Continental Divide at Milner’s Pass, because of the beauties of the Fall River Road, but this unexpected slide down from Flat Top yesterday, disarranged all these plans. What shall we do about it?”

“What was your next point of interest, had we gone over the pass as you had planned?” asked Mrs. Vernon.

“Well, you see, I thought we would land somewhere near Beaver Creek on the western slope of the Divide. I know a number of ranchers living about that section, and I thought the scouts might enjoy spending a week or so on these ranches.”

“If it’s all the same to you, Gilly, we’d rather enjoy the wildlife of the Rockies instead of ranching,” ventured Julie.

“Oh, it’s all the same. In fact, I’d rather not use any time on the ranches while I still have many interesting moraines to explore,” said he.

“Then we’ll plan a new route. What would you do next?” said the Captain.

“We are near the Meadow Fork of Grand River, I think, and we can follow that to reach Grand Lake. Then we can trail from there, along the North Fork of the Grand, until we reach Hot Sulphur Springs. After a visit to the Springs, we can go down Goré Canyon, cross the Goré Range, and thus reach Steamboat Springs.”

“All right, let’s do as you just said,” remarked Mr. Vernon.

“Tally give up Devil-Bear and timber wolves at Spring,” now said Tally.

“All right, Tally, but don’t you think the girls ought to share in the reward for the wolves? We helped shoot them,” said Mr. Gilroy.

“Um, sure! Scout git Devil-Bear money, too!” said Tally, amazed that any one should have thought otherwise.

“How so?” demanded Julie.

“Tally ’gree to guide, hunt, fish, help Mees’r Gilloy an’ scout all way frough summer. Devil-Bear kill in hunt, but Tally paid for time,” explained the Indian, thus refuting the reputation many white men give the Indian, that he will take advantage of other races every chance he gets.

“Oh, no, Tally! We wouldn’t think of such a division!” exclaimed the Captain. “Give us the pelts and you take the reward.”

As this suggestion was seconded by the others, Tally and Omney grinned joyously, for it was a windfall they had not looked for.

Further along the trail, Tally turned off to stop at a ranch-house and lay in a supply of flour and what other edibles the ranch-owner would sell him. Then they continued over the mountains.

Had the scouts come suddenly upon the Continental Divide they would have been speechless with the grandeur of it, but they had been riding past and over many peaks, canoeing down marvelous waterways, and had climbed all the ranges that led to the Divide, so that they scarcely realized that they were crossing the stupendous elevation until they heard Tally speak.

“Mos’ over now, foothills all way to Sulphur Springs.”

As they rode on, looking for Meadow Fork, along which Mr. Gilroy wished to trail, many questions were asked by the scouts and answered by the Indians.

Ruth then said, “I’ve heard a lot about Hot Sulphur Springs, Gilly, but what thrilling sight shall we find there?”

“Its name might lead you to believe you would see the apparition who is said to have charge of all sulphur worlds,” said Julie, giggling.

“Also you will have an opportunity to taste the nastiest drinking water he—Julie’s friend—ever sent bubbling forth,” added Mr. Gilroy, quickly.

“That friend and I had a falling out and now we are not on speaking terms!” retorted Julie, and the others laughed.

“Why stop there, then? Let’s go on to Goré’s Canyon,—that sounds awfully thrilling,” remarked Joan.

“Is it named Gory, Gilly, because so many Red Men scalped the early settlers out here?” asked Betty.

“Oh, no,” laughed Mr. Gilroy. “It is named after an Irish nobleman, Sir George Goré, who discovered the canyon while he and a party of friends were hunting big game in the Rockies many years ago, before folks went over the Divide. In those days it was considered a marvelous feat to go into the Rockies.”

“If every one can have a mountain named after them, why can’t I have one called ‘Juliet’s Peak’?” demanded the irrepressible scout.

“You can, if you like. That is the easiest part of all, but how will other tourists know that that particular peak is named for you?” laughed Mr. Gilroy.

“You’d have to advertise the fact by some wild adventure, or great patriotic deed,” added Mr. Vernon.

“Oh, I can advertise, all right!” retorted Julie. “I’ll take a great bucket of whitewash and a calcimine brush; then on every flat-faced rock along the trail, up one side and down the other, I’ll slap a hand-painted sign on every one of them: ‘This is Juliet’s Peak,’ and the finger in ghostly white will point to my peak.”

Her ridiculous explanation caused every one to laugh, but when Jolt turned and opened his jaw wide to emit the grating sound “Hee—haw! Hee—haw!” the riders declared it was screamingly opportune of the mule.

Late in the afternoon, the second day from Flat Top, the scouts had their first battle with a rattlesnake. It is claimed that one never sees a rattler on the east slope of the Rockies,—why, it is not stated. But one certainly encounters many of them on the west side and on other ranges in Colorado.

They were jogging along comfortably when Julie’s horse suddenly leaped aside and climbed a steep bank beside the trail. The other horses trembled, and instantly the warning rattle sounded. Tally hurried back and saw a huge reptile coiled at one side of the trail, half-hidden under a bush.

He jumped from the saddle and snapped a hickory stick from a young sapling nearby. Then he whipped the rattler over the back. He could not break its back as the bush fended the blows. But Omney and Tally could so tire the reptile with blows that kept its head swinging from side to side, that finally they might jump on it.

The scouts sat and watched this interesting fight, the rattler darting its forked tongue venomously at the sticks, and in so doing having to turn its head from one to the other. This defence kept it from uncoiling and gliding away. Neither could it spring from the coil to strike while its head was so busy.

At last it showed signs of weariness, and once, when it momentarily forgot to strike at Tally’s whip but struck twice in succession at the stick Omney wielded, the former took instant advantage of it, and in another moment his heel was planted upon the flat head.

Then the guides dragged the sinuous reptile out and measured it. It was fully five feet long, from head to tip of tail where ten rattles were attached. Tally removed these, and with a bow presented them to the Captain,—an honor shown all Tenderfeet in the Rockies, if a rattler is encountered by the natives.

“Him make fine money book, er belt,” suggested Omney, when the scouts shuddered at the diamond-backed rattler.

“Oh, yes, we must send the skin home to be cured and made into souvenirs, girls!” exclaimed Mr. Gilroy.

In vain did the riders look for other rattlers after that, for every one wanted every skin that could be gotten for souvenirs.

Mr. Gilroy rode along, watching for the familiar landmarks that would tell him he had found Meadow Fork, but he finally admitted that he must have taken the wrong turn back by the ranch.

They rode past lovely streams and camped beside a most enchanting lake, then on, alongside a fine river, but Mr. Gilroy did not find his Meadow Fork or Grand Lake.

Finally, from the summit of one of the lower peaks on the western slope of the Rockies, the scouts saw a valley spread out before them, and concentrated in one spot of this valley were numerous dots, that were dwelling-houses, together with several large ones, that denoted they were hotels.

Mr. Gilroy rubbed his eyes, then stared. “Now, if I did not know better, I’d swear that that was Sulphur Springs.”

“’Tis Sp’ings,” chuckled Tally.

“But, Tally, it can’t be! We haven’t found Meadow Fork or Grand River, yet! Have we trailed along some other way?” wondered Mr. Gilroy.

The town proved to be the Springs, and there Mr. Gilroy learned that he had been riding along Meadow Fork, had camped at Grand Lake, and then followed Grand River, without knowing it. This error in judgment gave the scouts a never-ending chance for teasing him, thereafter.

That night the horses, as well as their riders, were glad to stretch out upon comfortable town-made beds, and in the morning the breakfast was already provided for all, instead of their having to first gather it.

The first thing the guides did after breakfast was to cash in their reward for Devil-Bear. The skin proved their claim, and word instantly circulated that two Indians had killed the menace of the ranches. The scouts received the reward for the tongues of the timber-wolves which Tally had brought into town, and thus the scouting party soon found fame camping on their doorstep. The local papers made much of them, and the girls took a keen delight in mailing home copies of the papers containing the account of their exploits.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN—A FOREST FIRE

“Now, friends, let us get away as soon as possible, or the guides may spend all their reward money on firewater, and be unable to start for a week,” suggested Mr. Gilroy, confidentially, to the scouts.

“Why don’t you take the money and deposit it for them in a bank?” asked Julie.

“I offered to keep it for them, but they were not overanxious to part with the cash. I know the boys too well to dream that they can withstand temptations of a town when they have such easy money to burn.”

So the riders planned to leave immediately, starting away soon after the midday meal.

“I’m not sorry to leave the Springs with its ailing visitors behind,” remarked Joan, as they got back into the saddles.

“Thank goodness we are not rheumatic, or gone to pieces, to have to come here to be mended again,” declared Julie.

“I should think the horrid water would kill them, instead of curing,” added Ruth, making a wry face at the remembrance of her taste of the waters.

“It isn’t the water that cures, remember,” said Mr. Gilroy, “it is the people’s faith in it. And some folks believe that the more disagreeable a cure tastes, the better it will act.”

From Hot Sulphur Springs the party rode through Goré Canyon, and then over the Goré Range, as Mr. Gilroy had planned. The climb up the latter mountains was one of the thrilling experiences of the trip.

Following Tally through an unbroken wilderness, they unexpectedly came upon an old lumber-road. Along this they trailed until it ended in a natural clearing of over a thousand acres. The park was surrounded by dense forests with apparently no trail leading from it.

“Here we are, boys! In, all right, but no way out,” called Mr. Vernon, smiling at the perplexed looks of the riders.

“That means that every one has to hunt for a blaze of some kind,” returned Mrs. Vernon.

“The blazes are here, all right, but the trail is such an old one that the young timber has, likely, grown up and hidden the old pines which carry the signs,” added Mr. Gilroy.

Thereupon, every scout began to thrash through bushes and between young trees, hunting for the much-desired blaze. It was Betty’s luck to find it, although she really wasn’t looking as anxiously for it as were the other scouts.

She saw a queer scar on an old pine before her when she broke through some brush, and she was studying its strange formation when Tally came up behind her. He recognized the blaze and laughed.

“Betty find him! Come see!” shouted he.

The others galloped across the park and stared at the deeply scarred pine, while Tally read its meaning to them.

“It must have been blazed in the days of the First People,” said Julie.

But little attention was paid her remark, as every one was eager to go on. Tally broke a way through the jungle of bush and young timber, and finally they all came out to the silent woods again.

They rode through twilight forests of gigantic red-spruce trees, measuring from three to six feet in diameter and towering over a hundred feet in height. The ground under these was carpeted with pine needles, which lay, year after year, until no sound echoed from the hoofbeats upon them.

Looking in any direction, the scouts could see only dense forests, with not a crevice in their vaulted roofs of green where the sun might filter through. These pines seemed to waft down virgin incense upon the heads of the riders, who fully appreciated the still beauty of the place, and the velvety corridors they went along.

Then the trail became steeper, and the trees grew smaller, allowing great splashes of sunshine to bask here and there upon the passive treetrunks, or to sprawl out upon the thick pine needles that covered the ground.

After riding for several hours, the scouts left the pine forest behind, and rode out upon a faint trail that ran through aspen brakes. Now and then they came to parks where the trail lost itself, and every one had to seek for it again.

A great deal of time was lost in each park they came to, over thus finding the trail, as so many misleading ones were made in the thick buffalo grass by wild animals that came to graze there. The only thing Tally relied upon for the right way was by finding a blaze upon an old tree nearby.

During the climb, the horses often came upon sudden precipitous descents that had to be zigzagged down through loose stone and débris, then up again on the other side. When the riders reached the highest altitude of the Goré Range and looked about, they found themselves among sheer cliffs, that obstructed any distant views.

“Feels like lunchtime to me,” ventured Anne.

“I should think you’d say dinnertime—that’s the way it feels to me,” laughed Julie.

“I was afraid to say that, because I am always credited,—unjustly of course,—with being the gourmand of the Troop,” retorted Anne.

Tally now led along a trail that ran through a small park, that lay between two towering cliffs which shut off all sight of anything on either side of them. Along the bottom of this ravine-like park a clear stream of water gurgled noisily.

“Shall we camp here for luncheon?” asked the Captain, seeing the sweet green grass and cooling stream.

“Oh, no, Verny! Let’s find some woods to stop in. It’s not very inviting to feel shut in so far down,” returned Julie.

So they rode on, the horses picking their careful way over stones and roots, and their riders having to pay strict attention to the trail.

The trail wound about upthrusts of rock, where other streams ran to fall down the sides of the ravine, causing it to widen as it needed more space to carry the added waters. And at last, the scouts could see, in the distance, that the cliffs ahead ended and the stream also passed from view.

“Where the cliffs end will be a dandy spot for camp. We shall be able to sit and gaze over the park that most likely is to be found there,” suggested Joan, eagerly.

“If you don’t camp somewhere soon, you’ll find me ended there!” sighed Anne, comically.

Before they reached this “end” however, the Captain held up a hand for silence, as she said, “That’s a queer sound I hear!”

The others reined in their horses and listened. They then heard it, also. Mr. Vernon said, “Sounds like thunder, I think.”

“No, it sounds more like a stampede of cattle on a ranch. If you’ve ever heard the hoofbeats of a herd of steer, you’d know that this is like it,” came from Mr. Gilroy.

Tally grinned at both men. “Him waterfall!”

“Waterfall! All that volume of sound?” asked Mr. Gilroy, skeptically.

“Him big waterfall,” repeated Tally.

“Let’s hurry to find it, then!” declared Julie, urging her horse forward and gaining the corner of the cliff at the end of the ravine, ahead of her companions.

The crags completely hid all that might be beyond them; but as the riders went along, the volume of sound increased until the roaring of water convinced every one that the Indian must be right in his surmise. Then they passed around the obstructing crag, and sat spellbound at the panorama spread out before them.

The first glimpse of this tremendous waterfall was that of tawny green water bounding headlong over the precipice. Its dynamic vehemence had cleft a fearful way through the crags on either side of it, and adown its course one could see black hulks of rock that projected out from the swirling flood. The roar and thunder of this tremendous stream prevented any one from hearing other sounds.

The group of riders sat enthralled by the sight, then they next permitted their eyes to wander beyond the immediate falls to the magnificent view spread out in such space below and beyond. In the far distance the snow-capped peaks lay, one behind the other, until they were lost to sight in the drifting clouds on the horizon. But, as if loath to merge so quickly with the clouds, here and there one or more peaks would appear with their sharp points above the mist, and there reflect the glory of the shining sun.

From the far horizon and its peaks, the eyes now dropped gradually from one height to the next lower down, until they rested upon a valley that lay fully fifteen hundred feet below the crags where the scouts stood. The panorama was so vast in extent and so impressive in its sense of infinitude, that the spectators scarcely drew their breath.

The whole scene shimmered through the soft clouds that hung above the waterfalls and made it look like the reflections in a soap-bubble, with iridescent colors shining on the sphere. So ethereal appeared the picture that it seemed as if a slight vibration would surely shatter the bubble. This grand painting had existed here for centuries before the coming of the scouts to admire it, and there it promised to remain intact for centuries more after mortals should pass from the earth.

Here and there across this valley a ribbon of water wound a silent course away out of sight. From the great falls a mighty river flowed for miles until that, too, appeared like a silver ribbon, tying the land fancifully in its loops.

The silence was broken at last by Anne. “Can we find a better place for dinner than this grand cliff?”

The tension broke with a snap, and the others glared at the perplexed scout. Finally Julie cried, scornfully, “Can you find anything in that scene besides patches where food is grown?”

Good-natured Anne laughed, and shrugged her shoulders. “I think it is as beautiful as the Great Spirit ever made, but unfortunately I am not yet entirely spiritual. I find I must eat a bite now and then, to enable me to enjoy these pictures.”

Her excuse for the interruption made every one laugh, and Mrs. Vernon then added, “I think Anne’s suggestion very good,—to camp here and have dinner.”

“Let Hominy lead the horses back to the grassy ravine to graze, while Tally cooks dinner,” added Mr. Vernon.

So Omney rode back, leading the rest of the horses and the two pack-mules. Tally soon had the dinner cooking, but there was no chance of catching fish in that swift water, so they were satisfied that day with pork and beans, bread and jam for dinner.

After descending the last rampart of the Goré Range, the scouts heard Tally speak confidently of the locality they were in, but Mr. Gilroy seemed to differ with the guide.

“Me think us mos’ here,” insisted the Indian.

“Maybe you’re right! I was mistaken before, so I’ll give in,” laughed Mr. Gilroy.

“What is it, Gilly?” asked some of the scouts.

“Tally says we are nearly at Steamboat Springs, and I say we are not. Now we will see who is right!”

They had not gone much farther along the trail, however, before the scouts discovered strawberries! Great luscious wild berries they were, and growing profusely everywhere in the grass.

“I guess Tally was right,” admitted Mr. Gilroy. “We’re in the wonderful strawberry belt that is so famous about Steamboat Springs.”

Colorado strawberries are as famous, throughout the West, as the Rockyford melons are in the East; so the scouts made the most of their opportunity to eat the delicious berries while they were at the Springs. They visited the plants where berries are packed and shipped, and also visited a factory where jams were prepared.

This progressive little town, although so young, compared favorably with the larger cities of the East. It was equipped with electric light, telephones, paved streets, first-class public service, and other modern welfare improvements.

The evening after the scouts had visited the packing-houses that shipped strawberries to the markets, Mr. Gilroy sat studying a large map. Julie kept silent for a long time (for her) and finally spoke.

“What’s the map for? Any change in plans?”

“I was figuring out whether or not we might possibly have time to go on a tangent trip, and take in Yellowstone Park, as long as we are so near Wyoming,” he returned.

“Oh, fine! Do let’s do that, Verny!” cried several of the girls.

“But that means an extended trip, Mr. Gilroy, and I do not see how we are going to finish all you have planned and still get back to Denver in time to take these girls back to school in September,” remonstrated Mrs. Vernon.

An argument instantly followed, in which the scouts sided with Mr. Gilroy, arguing that time was no consideration when such wonderful sights as the geysers of the Yellowstone could be seen. Mrs. Vernon was firm, however, in her protest that school came before all such other considerations. Mr. Vernon also added his weighty decision by saying that he had to be back in New York City the first week in September, without fail.

“Then we will have to retrace our trail across the Rockies and travel slowly southward on the west side of the mountains,” was Mr. Gilroy’s reluctant rejoinder.

“Does that mean we can’t go any farther than Steamboat Springs?” asked Julie, querulously.

“We might go on to Craig, and visit Cedar Mountain from the peak of which we can look over into Wyoming. That seems to be as near to it as we will come this summer,” laughed Mr. Gilroy.

Julie pouted, and the other scouts sat and waited for developments. Mr. Vernon thought for a time, then turned to his friend with a suggestion.

“You wanted to cross the Divide at Milner’s Pass because of the scenic beauty of the Fall River Road; now, why not cross it in going back to the eastern slope of the Rockies, and thence turn south?”

“I had thought of doing that, but the point at issue now seems Wyoming ‘to be or not to be?’”

“That was just settled, as far as Uncle and I are concerned,” added Mrs. Vernon, hastily. “It’s ‘not to be’ because I swore solemnly that these girls would be home before Labor Day if they were permitted to take this trip. So home we go in time to begin school the first day of the Fall term.”

“Dear me! It looks as if Verny had the wire-pulling this time!” sighed Joan, in such a tone that every one laughed.

“And of course where she goes, I have to follow!” said Ruth.

“Yes, sort of a ‘Ruth and Naomi’ proposition,” retorted Julie.

This decision reached, without further resistance from the scouts, they retired for the night with the plan agreed upon to leave Steamboat Springs in the morning and start for the Park Range of the Divide.

The packs had been well filled for the new venture in the mountains, and having breakfasted royally early in the morning, the tourists started out on the trail. The horses had had such a good rest and the mules were so frisky again, that the line of riders made splendid time from Steamboat Springs to the hills.

They had climbed up one mountain and down the other side, then the next one, and then another, until Tally called a halt for something to eat. It was long past noon, and the horses were hungry, too. They were very near the summit of one of the lower ranges of mountains, and Mr. Gilroy suggested that they go on to the top and there rest and eat.

“And look out for a stream of water which is palatable for use,” added Mr. Vernon.

As they rode to the summit of the mountain, the scouts conversed with Mr. Gilroy on various matters. But the thing that seemed to impress them most, was the fact that here they were back in the same mountains, and yet every day added new scenes and delights to the tour.

“It really doesn’t seem as if we had ever been in one of these mountains before, because every step brings out new wonders,” remarked Mrs. Vernon, as they all neared the top of the peak they had been ascending.

The sound of falling water now attracted Tally’s attention, and he broke into the heavy undergrowth to locate the stream. This done, he came back and reported that he had found a fine place for the dinner.

They all dismounted at the spot, and the two men started downstream to fish, while the guides assigned various tasks to the different members of the party. Then, when the scouts had finished their work and the men were not yet back from fishing, they climbed to a crag of rock whence they expected to have a fine view.

“Well, did you ever!” exclaimed Ruth, the first to reach the top of the crag.

“What a queer fog for a mountainside!” was Julie’s reply.

The other scouts now crowded up to see what caused these remarks, and as they gazed down upon a thick mantle of yellow, one of the girls called to Mrs. Vernon. She hastily climbed up beside them and looked as perplexed as her charges.

“Tally,” called she, turning to beckon the Indian, “see if this is smoke, will you?”

“Him smoke!” affirmed Tally, the moment he saw the blanket beneath them.

“What! A fire in the forest?” cried several of the girls.

“Then we can’t go through, can we?” asked Julie.

“Mebbe. Us wait and see,” returned Tally. “But scout get camera ready dis time. Fine picksher pooty soon when an’mals run f’om fire.”

“Verny, get the camera! Hurry up!” exclaimed the scouts, while Tally returned to his cooking.

His indifference to the fire that enveloped the forest tended to allay any fears they might have had. So they sat and watched the consuming flames as they swept across the forest and everywhere destroyed the fine timber. Unfortunately, the fire started at the base of the mountain so it quickly spread upward; had it begun at the top it would have burned itself out slowly for lack of fuel above where the draught always blows it.

Joan now leaned forward, and cried, “Look, quick!”

The scouts turned to gaze in the direction she pointed, and saw a number of beavers crossing a small park in order to reach a stream that flowed through the clearing. Immediately after the colony of beavers came a few deer, stopping now and then to turn and stare wonderingly at the heat that caused them such discomfort.

Then, to the amazement of the scouts, a large bear followed upon the heels of the deer, but he had no thought now of making a meal of venison. He seemed anxious only to reach a place where smoke and fire would not annoy him. Now and then the girls saw him stop, return a few paces and sound a queer growl. Then they saw the cause of this action.

A fat little cub finally ran out from the thick blanket of smoke, and hurried after its mother. When it came up to the old bear, it jumped about gleefully, never dreaming of the danger they were fleeing from. But the she-bear evidently thought this was no time for unseemly play, and gave the cub a smart cuff over the ear. The little fellow rolled over with the force of the slap, but then ran along beside his mother in meek submission to authority.

Tally now joined them again on the crag, and when the scouts had told of the bear, Ruth added, “But there are no birds escaping, Tally.”

“Dem gone long go. Fire drive dem firs’.”

“I’m glad of that, but just think of all the fledglings that can’t fly and escape,” said Betty.

“Let’s think of something pleasanter,” retorted Julie.

“Yes, let’s think of dinner that Tally says is waiting,” added Anne, laughingly.

As they sat down to dine, the scouts saw Omney sitting up on their former post of observation. As they wanted to ride on as soon as possible, one of the scouts asked why the guide didn’t eat his dinner, too.

“Him watch if fire jump. Him kin eat dere as here.”

“The fire is burning the other way, Tally,” said Julie.

“Mebbe him jump back, if wind change. So Omney watch.”

“If it blows this way, what must we do?” asked the Captain.

“Ride back trail us come. An’ ride fas’, too.”

But the fire kept on burning its way in the direction it began to go, and after a long rest on the crags to permit the pall of smoke to be blown away, the guides led the way down the slope. All the down-timber had been burned to ash which was still hot in spots. So the horses picked their way between these heaps. Every vestige of brush, all vegetation, and living creatures were gone. Charred tree trunks showed where the flames had licked up the bark to get at the pine branches overhead, and there, high above the heads of the riders, the fire still raged through the resinous tops.

“It’s a Sodom and Gomorrah for desolation, isn’t it?” said Julie.

In all the fire-swept district the scouts saw not one charred body of animals that live in the woods. A coyote lay at the edge of the area, dead from the blow of an animal with sharp claws, but that had happened after the fire. Julie thought the bear probably did it because the horrid little coyote tried to get a bite of fat little cub.

“But see all the poor, poor trees,” sighed Betty.

“Yes, these fires destroy more timber than all other forces put together,” returned Mr. Gilroy. “Because of the resinous matter in pine or spruce, they burn quicker and make a hotter fire than other trees. But fortunately for future forests, the flames never can reach the roots and seedlings buried under ground, so these shortly sprout up and start new timber.

“It is not often that a fire sweeps over the same area again for centuries, unless some fool tenderfoot leaves a campfire burning, or shakes the hot ashes from a pipe.”

They all rode forward as quickly as possible, for night was coming on apace, and every one was anxious to get out of the burnt district before dark. So they pitched camp as soon as they got beyond the fire line.

That night, flares like torches shot up from many of the standing trees on the hillside, and they continued burning for several days after the under fire had passed along. The light from these treetops cast weird shadows upon the camp.

“I never want to see another forest-fire,” declared Joan, as she turned her face away from these flickering glares.

“None of us do, but as long as there was a fire, we are glad to have seen it,” replied Julie.

“And I’m glad it was a little one,” added the Captain.

“You wouldn’t say that was a little fire, would you?” asked several of the scouts.

“Tally said it was not over a mile frontage, and that, he says, is a small one. If we saw a fire that stretched for miles along a forest ridge and kept on burning for days and days,—that, he claims, would be a big fire!”

All through that night blood-curdling cries came from the devastated district. The howls of panthers, growls of the bears, cries of coyotes, and yelps of timber-wolves, kept the campers awake. In the morning, Tally started early to seek the cause of such a clamor in the night.

“Dat ole dead coyote! Him mak all dat trubble,” laughed the guide, upon his return to camp. “Dem starvin’ an’mals all wand’da eat him, so dey fight and fight, but ole grizzle fight bes’ an’ git him.”