CHAPTER XXII--A Blizzard on Flat Top--The Camp is Christened"Valley Forge"
The next day the mountains were still under. It wasn't raining, but theclouds were a dark, gun metal color, and seemed to rest like heavy smokeon the rocks overhead.
"Nothing doing," said Mills. "They may be over for two days yet, and itwill surely rain. We'll keep the trail over Ahern Pass, and make FlatTop to-day. All out!"
And it was a strange day that followed. The trail was none too good,with much fallen timber to drive the packhorses around for the first twoor three miles, and it very soon got up into a wild, desolate, narrowcanyon under the southern wall of Mount Merritt, with the water of LakeElizabeth beside the path, looking in this gray light under the loweringclouds a sort of dead, chalky green. Beyond Lake Elizabeth the canyongrew steeper and narrower, the cliffs of Mount Merritt went sheer upinto the clouds, and on the other side of the valley rose the equallysteep walls that were the reverse side of the Iceberg Lake cliffs Tomhad scaled. But the tops both of Merritt and these cliffs were hidden incloud, that swirled and raised and lowered as the upper wind currentshit it. When they reached Lake Helen, at the head of the canyon, wherethe trail began to switchback up the wall of the Divide, they could see,just under the clouds, poised, it seemed, almost over their heads, noless than four glaciers, one of them apparently hanging on a shelf andready to fall off at any moment. In fact, a huge cake as big as a housedid fall off, and crashed down with a great roar to the rocks below,even as they watched.
"The mountain gnomes are bombarding us!" Mr. Crimmins laughed.
They went steadily and steeply up, on the switchbacks, and reached thetop of the Divide at noon. But half an hour before they got to theDivide they were in the clouds, in a thick, damp, chilling fog, that wasnot rain and yet covered their clothes with drops of moisture, madetheir hands wet and cold, and of course obscured every vestige of aview.
"Well," said the Ranger, "here we are on the backbone of the world. Overthere is Heaven's Peak. Just to the left, only a mile away, Tom, is thetop of the Iceberg Lake head wall. If it was clear, you could take Joeover and show him where you climbed. But I guess as it is we'll get downas fast as we can, and not even wait for lunch."
"Anything to get out of this," the men said, blowing on their wet, numbfingers.
So they dropped down on the west side of the Divide, getting out of thecloud below timber-line, and stopped while Joe made hot coffee. Thenthey pushed on down still farther, picked up a better trail in the deepwoods in a canyon beside a stream--Mineral Creek Canon; and turning sharpnorth, began slowly and gradually to climb again. It was the kind of aday when nobody does much talking, and even the horses seemed to plugdejectedly along. After two or three miles, however, they began to go upmore rapidly, out of deep timber, into a region of meadows and lowbalsams. Joe was the first to smell the balsams, and sniffed eagerly.
"I'm going to have a real bed to-night," he called to Mills, "if youdon't look. I know it's against the rules to cut bough beds in thePark."
"I won't look, if you won't tell," Mills called back. "We have to makethat rule to protect the trees, but way up here in the wilds Uncle Samwon't miss a few twigs, I guess."
They were now nearly under the clouds again. To their right a steepdebris pile rose, and ended in a jagged cliff wall, which disappeared inthe vapor. To the left was a wooded slope, and ahead the trail climbedsharply to a ridge which could barely be seen under the clouds.
"We're almost at the north end of Flat Top Mountain," the Ranger said."That cliff to the right is the Divide, and dead ahead that ridge yousee is the Divide turning sharp left and running across to the westernrange. From here on into Canada the western range is the watershed. Wecould climb to the top of that ridge--only half a mile, and camp on theDivide, if you want to."
"And spend the night in the cloud? Excuse me!" Mr. Crimmins said. "Thisis bad enough."
"All right--all off," the Ranger answered.
He called to Joe and Tom, and the three of them pitched the two tents ina sheltered spot, in the centre of a grove of balsams about twenty feettall.
"And peg 'em down hard," he said. "Anything may come out of those cloudsto-night. Now, Tom, get a good big supply of wood, and stack it up dry,under a pack cover, while I turn out the horses."
While Joe was getting supper, the three tourists gathered balsam boughsfor beds, following Mills' orders to take only a few twigs from any onetree.
"It's against the rules," he said, "but we may need to sleep as warm aswe can to-night."
"I believe you," Robert Crimmins replied, blowing on his numb fingers.
Tom, meanwhile, combed the region all around for dead wood. The supplywas none too large, for they were perilously close to timber-line; andunder the cloud darkness was coming on early, to make the job harder.But he finally found a large dead tree, down in a sheltered hollow bythe stream, and got four or five good logs out of that, and a lot ofsmaller stuff. The two tents were pitched facing each other, with acamp-fire and Joe's fire pit between, and with the surroundingevergreens for a windbreak and the tent flaps open to catch the heat,they were pretty comfortable that evening, though every one wore hissweater, and Joe and Tom, who had brought their mackinaws, were gladenough to put them on, too.
Nobody undressed that night at all, except to take off his boots and puton an extra pair of socks instead. The wind was rising steadily, thetents shook, the evergreens over them sighed and whistled, and Joe layawake for the first time since he had been in the Park, with a curiousfeeling that something was going to happen.
He got to sleep at last, but he woke up presently--it seemed to him thathe woke up immediately--and peering through the tent flap saw no sign ofa fire. At least, he thought, the embers ought still to be glowing. Heslipped out of his blankets as softly as he could, climbed over Mills,who was sleeping nearest the entrance, and started to unbuckle the flap.As he did so, a gust of wind hit the tent, half lifting it off its pole,and blew the flap wildly in. As it blew in, something soft and cold andstinging hit Joe's face. Snow! He stuck out his head for an instant, andall he could see was a kind of swirling, waving, hissing white darkness.It was bitter cold, too, and the fire was out. Dimly he could see theoutline of the other tent, and the roof of it was white with drift. Nouse trying to build up the fire in that! He fought the wind to close theflap again.
But the swirl of the snow in his face had waked the Ranger.
"What's the matter?" he said.
"A blizzard," Joe replied, as another gust of wind strained the canvasand rattled the guy ropes.
"I thought something would come out of this," said Mills. "Hang it, weought to have camped lower down. I'd rather be drowned than frozen."
Tom woke up now, and they lighted the camp lantern, to peep out into thenight.
A voice, half drowned in the roar of the gale, came across from theother tent.
"Say," it called, "what had we better do?"
"Keep in your blankets and hang onto your tent!" Mills shouted back.
"I wonder if he thinks we can call a taxi and drive to a hotel!" headded in a normal tone, that couldn't have been heard two feet beyondthe tent flap.
Nobody slept any more in either tent that night. They were too cold, andtoo busy bailing out snow that drifted under the tent walls, or tryingto peg down the walls or stop up the gaps with the balsam beds. Finally,toward morning, there came a perfect hurricane of wind. The tent thescouts were in swayed, tugged, seemed about to leave its moorings, andin the midst of the gust the occupants heard a snapping sound outside,and a smothered yell.
Mills sprang out into the storm, and a moment later came back withRobert and the two men, all wrapped in their blankets, and powderedwhite by the brief crossing.
Their tent pole had snapped, and the tent had come down on top of them!There was no chance of getting it up again then, so the six people allhuddled in the one tent, and waited for daylight.
"Anyhow, the more we are, the warmer we can keep," said Robert
, who wasrather enjoying the adventure. "Go on, Joe, keep your knee in my back, Ilike it! It's as good as a hot water bottle."
The storm began to abate presently, and as the light brightened outside,Mills, peering out, reported that the snow had stopped falling. With thediminution of the wind, too, the cold lessened, and the noise, andnearly everybody, in spite of the cramped quarters, fell into atroubled, rather restless sleep.
What woke Joe up was the bright daylight hitting him in the eye througha crack in the tent flap.
He extricated himself from between Robert and Mr. Taylor, and pushed hisway out. It was a transformed, a wonderful, a beautiful world he lookedon! Evidently the sun was up over the prairie, for far down MineralCreek Canon he could see the top of Cannon Mountain, snow covered, pinkand rosy with the light, and Heaven's Peak, a little nearer, was like agreat pyramid of gleaming rose crystal. On the ground about him, halfcovering his fire pit, was almost a foot of snow, which hung on thebalsams, was drifted over the fallen tent, covered the rocks, andthrough which, here and there, rose the stems of wild flowers, theirblossoms nodding above the white carpet!
He gave a shout.
"Don't miss this!" he cried. "Gee, it's worth a lost night's sleep, andthen some!"
Sleepy, stiff forms emerged from the tent behind him, and gazed at thesunrise over a world that was white with winter, and yet was summer.Everybody exclaimed with delight--except the Ranger.
"This will make Cleveland hopeless," was all he said, as he began topull the fallen tent up out of its drift.
"Well, I'm going to name this old camp Valley Forge," Robert Crimminslaughed, as he stamped his feet and blew on his fingers, before pickinga wild flower for his buttonhole!