The Valiant Runaways [29]
said. "We shall be buried
here."
Adan gasped but cinched his saddle; the boys sprang upon the now
tractable mustangs and plunged into the forest below. The brush was
thin, and they pushed their way downward as rapidly as the steep descent
would permit. Sometimes the forest protected them from the storm, at
others the trees grew wide apart and the riders were exposed to its
pitiless rush. In these open spaces they could see nothing, could only
push blindly on, brushing the stinging particles from their faces, their
hands and feet almost numb. The snow in the open was already as high as
the horses' knees. There was no wind, only that silent sweeping of the
heavens. In the depths the high branches of the redwoods groaned
ominously under the stiffening weight, like giants in pain.
The forest thinned. The snow had its will of the earth. There was no
refuge under the larger trees that still stood, like outposts, here and
there; the branches were too high above. Once Adan suggested through his
stiff lips and unruly teeth that they turn back and take refuge in some
dense grove above; but Roldan shook his head peremptorily. He had heard
of the fearful storms of the Sierras; they lasted for days, and the snow
stood its ground for weeks. Their only hope was the valley.
But they descended only to rise again: in the white darkness of the
storm they dared not attempt to skirt the base of the peaks; they must
keep straight on, to the west, for there lay the valley.
Occasionally, where a grove of trees stood close and the snow lay
shallow, the boys got off and wrestled, rousing the blood in their legs
and arms; then urged their mustangs to greater speed. But the poor
brutes were very weary, and the blood in their veins was almost torpid.
Once they stood still and shook, whinnying pitifully. A huge grizzly, so
powdered as to be hardly distinguishable from the drifts about him,
floundered along to the right. The boys crossed themselves and awaited
their fate, with the apathy of numb and despairing brains; but the
monster was evidently aiming for the warmth of his home, and took no
notice of the meal in four courses standing in the middle of the path.
The night deepened. The snow thickened and sped down with an audible
rush, a sting in each beautiful white bee. The boys nodded, roused
themselves, fell forward, their arms mechanically stiffening about the
horses' necks. Once they flung out their hands and feet with a smothered
shriek. A tongue of flame seemed to leap down their throats and hiss
through their veins, while the world roared and heaved about them. Then
all sensation was over.
XIII
Roldan opened his eyes. His brain was heavy; he was conscious only of an
intense warmth. His arms appeared to be bound to his sides, his whole
body in a vise. He kicked out with a vigorous return of the instinct of
independence. The action shook his brain free and he understood: he was
tightly wrapped in a blanket, and there were other blankets upon him. He
raised his head. The room was one of familiar lineaments,--whitewashed
walls, a mat by the iron bed, an altar in the corner, linen with
elaborate drawn-work on bureau and washstand. The blood poured upward to
the young adventurer's face. Was this his room? Had he been ill and
dreamed strange happenings? He freed his arms and sat up. No; there was
no room in his father's house exactly like this, monotonous as were the
furnishing and architecture of the time.
He took his head between his hands and thought; the events of the past
weeks marched through his brain in rapid and precise succession--up to a
certain point: his senses had been frozen in the Sierras. From a raging
snowstorm to this blistering bed all was blank.
He disencumbered himself, slipped to the floor, and opened the door,
then scrambled back to bed as best he could; his legs felt as if they
had been boned. He was also one vast desire for food and drink. But that
glimpse through the door had raised his spirits. He was in a great adobe
house surrounding
here."
Adan gasped but cinched his saddle; the boys sprang upon the now
tractable mustangs and plunged into the forest below. The brush was
thin, and they pushed their way downward as rapidly as the steep descent
would permit. Sometimes the forest protected them from the storm, at
others the trees grew wide apart and the riders were exposed to its
pitiless rush. In these open spaces they could see nothing, could only
push blindly on, brushing the stinging particles from their faces, their
hands and feet almost numb. The snow in the open was already as high as
the horses' knees. There was no wind, only that silent sweeping of the
heavens. In the depths the high branches of the redwoods groaned
ominously under the stiffening weight, like giants in pain.
The forest thinned. The snow had its will of the earth. There was no
refuge under the larger trees that still stood, like outposts, here and
there; the branches were too high above. Once Adan suggested through his
stiff lips and unruly teeth that they turn back and take refuge in some
dense grove above; but Roldan shook his head peremptorily. He had heard
of the fearful storms of the Sierras; they lasted for days, and the snow
stood its ground for weeks. Their only hope was the valley.
But they descended only to rise again: in the white darkness of the
storm they dared not attempt to skirt the base of the peaks; they must
keep straight on, to the west, for there lay the valley.
Occasionally, where a grove of trees stood close and the snow lay
shallow, the boys got off and wrestled, rousing the blood in their legs
and arms; then urged their mustangs to greater speed. But the poor
brutes were very weary, and the blood in their veins was almost torpid.
Once they stood still and shook, whinnying pitifully. A huge grizzly, so
powdered as to be hardly distinguishable from the drifts about him,
floundered along to the right. The boys crossed themselves and awaited
their fate, with the apathy of numb and despairing brains; but the
monster was evidently aiming for the warmth of his home, and took no
notice of the meal in four courses standing in the middle of the path.
The night deepened. The snow thickened and sped down with an audible
rush, a sting in each beautiful white bee. The boys nodded, roused
themselves, fell forward, their arms mechanically stiffening about the
horses' necks. Once they flung out their hands and feet with a smothered
shriek. A tongue of flame seemed to leap down their throats and hiss
through their veins, while the world roared and heaved about them. Then
all sensation was over.
XIII
Roldan opened his eyes. His brain was heavy; he was conscious only of an
intense warmth. His arms appeared to be bound to his sides, his whole
body in a vise. He kicked out with a vigorous return of the instinct of
independence. The action shook his brain free and he understood: he was
tightly wrapped in a blanket, and there were other blankets upon him. He
raised his head. The room was one of familiar lineaments,--whitewashed
walls, a mat by the iron bed, an altar in the corner, linen with
elaborate drawn-work on bureau and washstand. The blood poured upward to
the young adventurer's face. Was this his room? Had he been ill and
dreamed strange happenings? He freed his arms and sat up. No; there was
no room in his father's house exactly like this, monotonous as were the
furnishing and architecture of the time.
He took his head between his hands and thought; the events of the past
weeks marched through his brain in rapid and precise succession--up to a
certain point: his senses had been frozen in the Sierras. From a raging
snowstorm to this blistering bed all was blank.
He disencumbered himself, slipped to the floor, and opened the door,
then scrambled back to bed as best he could; his legs felt as if they
had been boned. He was also one vast desire for food and drink. But that
glimpse through the door had raised his spirits. He was in a great adobe
house surrounding