CHAPTER XXIV--The Boys Prepare for Winter in the Park, and Learn Whythe Timber-Line Trees Are Only Three Feet Tall
It was now September, and already a rain in the valleys meant fresh snowon the peaks and high passes. The hotel was still full, however, and Tomwas busy at the tepees, while Joe had steady work as a camp cook, onceon a fishing trip, when, in three days, he cooked so many trout he saidhe should be ashamed ever to look a fish in the face again, and sick ifhe ate one.
"I didn't think it was possible to get fed up on trout," he declared.
"Wait till next April, and you'll be out whipping up Roaring Brook, allright, all right," Tom laughed.
Of course school had begun back in Southmead, but Tom did not feel likequitting his job before the season was over, and, besides, after longtalks together, and consultations with the Ranger, and letters home totheir parents and Mr. Rogers, the boys had decided to stay on withMills, in his cabin (paying for their own food, of course, which wouldbe a very small item), until Christmas. It would mean that they'd losethe whole school term instead of a month, but, in return, Joe would havethat much more outdoor life, they could do a lot of reading evenings,and, above all, they could learn from Mills some of the duties of aforest ranger in winter, and learn how to handle themselves in themountains and big woods after all trails were closed, all touristsdeparted, and the Park had gone back to its primitive wildness.
Mr. Rogers agreed with them, and evidently persuaded their parents."After all," he wrote, "you'll really be taking a term in practicalfield forestry, and Joe can never hope to get a position as a foresterif he hasn't fully recovered his health. The government won't take asick man on the job. Learn all you can, especially how to take care ofyourselves."
So the boys sent home for their very warmest winter clothes, mittens,pull down hats, ski boots and skis and some school books and stories toread evenings. Mills said he could get them real Indian snow-shoes inthe Park, and elk skin sleeping-bags. He was even more delighted at theprospect of having them than they were at staying. It meant he wouldhave company till nearly Christmas, and the scouts knew how lonely heusually was in the winter, because that was one thing he had nevertalked about.
The tepee camp closed about mid-September, when it got too cold for manyhikers to come over the high passes, and the next two weeks Tom workedas a regular guide, with a license badge from the Park superintendent.Joe also had a couple of jobs with camping parties, but he had had hisbadge from the start. All the hotels and chalets closed on Octoberfirst, and then the boys moved into the Ranger's cabin.
They were glad to move, too. Already winter had begun to come, up on theDivide. The snow that fell did not melt, and the line of it was creepingdown the bare, rocky slopes of Gould. The nights were cold, and waterfroze in a kettle, and ice formed on the edge of the lake on a stillnight. Before the last bus had departed, all three made a trip out toGlacier Park station and laid in supplies for the winter.
"The next trip we make may be on snow-shoes," the Ranger said. "That'sfifty miles afoot, packing your sleeping-bag on your back."
The horses presently were sent down to the prairie to winter, and Joegot some of the hens from the hotel, which otherwise would have beenkilled or taken away, and installed them in the stable.
"We'll have fresh eggs for a while, anyhow," he declared.
"What you going to feed 'em with?" the Ranger asked.
"I got two barrels of feed," said Joe, "and our table scraps. When thefeed gives out, we'll live on fricasseed chicken. Anyhow, I'll keep onegood one alive till Thanksgiving, and we'll have some fresh meat thatday."
In the weeks that followed, Tom and Joe lived a hardy, active lifeafoot, sometimes going with the Ranger up the high trails to inspectwhere the early snows first slid, so that he could get a line on thespots in which the most danger to the trails lay.
"My idea is," he said, "that in some places where we have trouble,making us a lot of work in the spring, the government could plant Arcticwillow or limber pines, to hold the snow from sliding, and save a lot ofmoney. I'm going to study snowslides this winter, and make a report."
Sometimes, too, the scouts went hunting with him, not for sheep or goatsor deer, of course, but for the animals which prey on the sheep, goats,deer, etc. The worst pest, perhaps, is the coyote, which is a sort ofcowardly fox-wolf, and as the snow gradually pushed down the slopes anddrove many animals with it, the coyotes grew more numerous around thecabin, so the boys could hear them barking at night. Now all thetourists were gone, Mills gave each boy a gun, making them hisassistants, and especially on moonlight nights, when they heard thecoyotes barking, they would go out where some bait had been placed andshoot two or three.
"Every one you bag saves the life of a dozen ptarmigan hens, andprobably a lot of lambs and fawns," said Mills.
It wasn't long before the side of the barn was covered with coyoteskins.
"But what you really want is a lion's skin," said Mills.
"What _I_ want is a silver tip skin," said Tom. "I want a coat likeyours."
"Nothing doing," Mills laughed. "Mr. Silver Tip is protected now."
"Well, then, bring on your lion!" Spider replied.
"We'll get one yet," Mills answered.
Until the snow got well down toward the valleys, Tom and Joe used to gooff for a day at a time, also, with the rope, climbing up cliffs forpractice and still oftener, with their cameras, seeking out the uplandslopes where the wind kept the snow blown off, and lying in wait forsheep, to photograph them. The sheep, they found, came to such places tofeed. But it was cold work waiting, so they finally hit on the idea ofpacking up their sleeping-bags on their backs, and lying in them, underthe shelter of some rock or timber-line pine. In this way, they gotseveral photographs at close range.
They got something else, too; they got a real idea of why the trees attimber-line are only a few feet high. It was mid-November when they hadgone up a shoulder of Mount Wilbur, early in the morning, to a bareupland pasture where they believed that sheep would come to feed. Thesun was shining when they left, and there was no snow to speak of downin the valley. But they took snow-shoes, to keep their feet dry upabove, and their sleeping-bags.
Before they reached the pasture, however, which was at the extreme upperedge of timber-line, the sun was overcast, and the wind was rising to agale. They kept on, in spite of it, and picking out the lee side of arock, where a tree grew about three feet tall, till it got above therock and then turned at a right angle and trailed out parallel to theground, they got into their bags to wait. No sheep came that morning,but as the wind rose and shrieked and howled, and snow began to fall,they were too interested to go back down.
If they raised their faces the least bit above this rock, smash! camethe gale to hit them, and the snow particles cut like ice, while in thewind they felt little stinging particles of rock dust that actually hurtwhen they hit you.
"I don't blame this tree for not growing any higher!" Joe exclaimed."It's like us--just cuddles down behind the rock."
"Sure," said Tom. "If a branch does grow up over in summer, a wind likethis the next winter just cuts it off like pruning shears."
The scouts were now beginning to get covered with snow, and in spite ofthe fascination of lying up here with the storm howling over them andfeeling why it is the trees at timber-line grow only a few feet, or evenin some cases a few inches, tall in a hundred years, they realized itwas time to be getting down.
The instant they stood up, and got the full force of the gale, they werealmost knocked off their feet. The snow was coming fast now, and it wasall they could do to keep their footing over the treacherous rocks. Theyhad no rope, as they had not supposed they would need it, but when Joewas suddenly bowled over, and went nearly fifty feet down a long driftbefore he could dig in his heels and stop, it began to look grave.
As soon as they got off the partially bare shoulder, into a trifle lesswindy reach, they put on their snow-shoes, and fought along toward theSwift Current trail, al
most blindly in a brief time, for the snow wasincreasing till it shrouded them like a cloud.
"Say, I'm getting nervous!" Joe cried. "We ought to be at that trail bynow."
"Shut up," Tom said. "If you get a funk, it lets down your vitality, andthen you'll get cold and freeze your ears or feet or something. We can'tmiss it; we got the pitch of the slope to go by."
"That's so," Joe answered. And as he realized that the slope would guidethem, so they couldn't go in a circle, he suddenly felt warmer. Herealized how important it is to keep your head.
Once on the Swift Current trail, which, though snow covered, showedplainly, they descended rapidly on their snow-shoes, which gripped well.There was not yet snow enough here to start a slide, but they weren'tsure there might not be, and they kept an anxious eye above them all theway down. Once in the woods at the bottom, they hurried on to the cabin,not even stopping to make tea.
"Say, you poor boobs," Mills exclaimed, "I was just coming after you.Why don't you pick a wild, windy, stormy day to go climbing Wilbur? Whatare you trying to do, commit suicide?"
"No," said Tom, "to see why the timber-line trees are so dwarfed."
"Yes, and we found out," Joe added.