“It ain’t much uv a road an’ thar ain’t many people to ride on it in the best uv times, so I reckon our chance uv meetin’ a traveler who knows much is jest about ez good as our chance uv findin’ a peck uv gold in the next snowdrift.”

“Which means there’s no chance at all.”

“I reckon that’s ’bout the size uv it.  But, colonel, we don’t hev to look to the road fur the word.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ll turn our eyes upward, to the mounting heights.  Some uv us who are jest bound to save the Union are settin’ up on top uv high ridges, whar that p’ison band can’t go, waitin’ to tell us whar we ought to go.  They’ve got some home-made flags, an’ they’ll wave ’em to me.”

“Mr. Reed, you’re a man of foresight and perception.”

“Foresight?  I know what that is.  It’s the opposite uv hindsight, but I ain’t made the acquaintance uv perception.”

“Perception is what you see after you think, and I know that you’re a man who thinks.”

“Thank you, colonel, but I reckon that in sech a war ez this a man hez jest got to set right plum’ down, an’ think sometimes.  It’s naterally forced upon him.  Them that starts a war mebbe don’t do much thinkin’, but them that fights it hev to do a power uv it.”

“Your logic is sound, Mr. Reed.”

“I hev a pow’ful good eye, colonel, an’ I think I see a man on top uv that high ridge to the right.  But my eye ain’t ez good ez your glasses, an’ would you min’ takin’ a look through ’em?  Foller a line from that little bunch of cedars to the crest.”

“Yes, it’s a man.  I can see him quite plainly.  He has a big, gray shawl like your own, wrapped around his shoulders.  Perhaps he’s one of your friends.”

“I reckon so, but sence he ain’t makin’ no signs he ain’t got nuthin’ to tell.  It wuz agreed that them that didn’t know nuthin’ wuz to keep it to theirselves while we rode on until we come to them that did.  It saves time.  Now he’s gone, ain’t he, colonel?”

“Yes, something has come in between.”

“It’s the first thin edge uv the mist.  Them’s clouds out thar in the northwest, floatin’ over the mountings.  I’m sorry, colonel, but more snow is comin’.  The signs is too plain.  Look through that gap an’ see what big brown clouds are sailin’ up!  They’re just chock full uv millions uv millions uv tons uv snow!”

“You know your own country and its winter ways, Mr. Reed.  How long will it be before the snow comes?”

“Lend me your glasses a minute, colonel.”

He examined the clouds a long time through the powerful lenses, and when he handed them back he replied: 

“Them clouds are movin’ up in a hurry, colonel.  They hev saw us here ridin’ into the mountings, an’ they want to pour their snow down on us afore we git whar we want to go.”

Colonel Winchester looked anxious.

“I don’t like it,” he said.  “It doesn’t suit cavalry to be plunging around in snowdrifts.”