“You’re right, colonel.  Deep snow is shorely hard on hosses.  It looks ez ef we’d be holed up.  B’ars an’ catamounts, how them clouds are a-trottin’ ‘cross the sky!  Here come the fust flakes an’ they look ez big ez feathers!”

The colonel’s anxiety deepened, turning rapidly to alarm.

“You spoke of our being holed up, Mr. Reed, what did you mean by it?” he asked.

“Shet in by the snow.  But I know a place, colonel, that we kin reach, an’ whar we kin stay ef the snow gits too deep fur us.  These mountings are full uv little valleys an’ coves.  They say the Alleghanies run more than a thousand miles one way an’ mebbe three hundred or so another.  I reckon that when the Lord made ’em, an’ looked at His job, he wondered how He wuz goin’ to hev people live in sech a mass uv mountings.  Then He took His fingers an’ pressed ’em down into the ground lots an’ lots uv times, an’ He made all sorts of purty valleys an’ ravines through which the rivers an’ creeks an’ branches could run, an’ snug little coves in which men could build thar cabins an’ be sheltered by the big cliffs above an’ the forest hangin’ on ’em.  I reckon that He favored us up here, ‘cause the mountings jest suit me.  Nuthin’ on earth could drive me out uv ’em.”

He looked up at the lofty ridges hidden now and then by the whirling snow, and his eyes glistened.  It was a stern and wild scene, but he knew that it made the snug cove and the log cabins all the snugger.  The flakes were increasing now, and an evil wind was driving them hard in the men’s faces.  The wind, as it came through the gorges, had many voices, too, howling and shrieking in wrath.  The young troopers were devoutly grateful for the heavy overcoats and gloves with which a thoughtful general had provided them.

But there was one man in the regiment to whom wind and snow brought a certain pleasure.  It took Sergeant Whitley back to earlier days.  He was riding once more with his command over the great plains, and the foe they sought was a Cheyenne or Sioux band.  Here, they needed him and his wilderness lore, and he felt that a full use for them all would come.

The mountaineer now led them on rapidly, but the snow was increasing with equal rapidity.  Fortunately, the road through the pass was level enough to provide good footing for the horses, and they proceeded without fear of falls.  Soon the entire column turned into a white procession.  Men and horses alike were covered with snow, but, after their first chill, the hardy young riders began to like it.  They sang one of their marching songs, and the colonel made no effort to restrain them, knowing that it was raising their spirits.

“It’s all rather picturesque,” said Warner, when the song was over, “but it’ll be a good thing when Reed leads us into one of those heavenly coves that he talks so much about.  I think this snow is going to be about forty feet deep, and it will be hard for a column of three hundred men to proceed by means of tunnels.”