"Thought I'd git the joke on you," he said, when he stopped laughing.
"The road's been slantin' into the mountains, without you knowin' it,
and Townsville is cut off by the cliffs. You'll find it gettin' wilder
now 'till we start down the slope on the other side. Lucky our hosses
are strong, 'cause the mud is deeper than I thought it would be."

It was not really a road that they were following, merely a path,
and the going was painful. Under Petty's instructions they stopped
their mounts now and then for a rest, and a mile further on they began
to feel a rising wind.

"It's the wind that I told you of," said Petty. "It's sucked through
six or seven miles of pass, an' it will blow straight in our faces
all the way. As we'll be goin' up for a long distance you'll find it
growin' colder, too. But you've got to remember that after you pass
them cold winds an' go down the slope you'll strike another warm little
valley, the one in which Hubbard is layin' so neat an' so snug."

Dick had already noticed the increasing coldness and so had the
sergeant. Whitley, from his long experience on the plains, had the
keenest kind of an eye for climatic changes. He noticed with some
apprehension that the higher peaks were clothed in thick, cold fog,
but he said nothing to the brave boy whom he had grown to love like
a son. But both he and Dick drew their heavy coats closer and were
thankful for the buckskin gloves, without which their hands would have
stiffened on the reins.

Now they rode in silence with their heads bent well forward, because the
wind was becoming fiercer and fiercer. Over the peaks the fogs were