“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 growing thicker and darker and after a while the sharp edge of the wind was wet with rain.  It stung their faces, and they drew their hat brims lower and their coat collars higher to protect themselves from such a cutting blast.

“Told you we might have trouble,” called Petty, cheerfully, “but if you ride right on through trouble you’ll leave trouble behind.  Nor this ain’t nothin’ either to what we kin expect before we git to the top of the pass.  Cur’us what a pow’ful lot human bein’s kin stand when they make up their minds to it.”

“Are the horses well shod?” asked Whitley.

“Best shod in the world, ’cause I done it myself.  That’s my trade, blacksmith, an’ I’m a good one if I do say it.  I heard before we started that you had been a soldier in the west.  I s’pose that you had to look mighty close to your hosses then.  A man couldn’t afford to be ridin’ a hoss made lame by bad shoein’ when ten thousand yellin’ Sioux or Blackfeet was after him.”

“No, you couldn’t,” replied the sergeant.  “Out there you had to watch every detail.  That’s one of the things that fightin’ Indians taught.  You had to be watchin’ all the time an’ I reckon the trainin’ will be of value in this war.  Are we mighty near to the top of the pass, Mr. Petty?”

“Got two or three miles yet.  The slope is steeper on the other side.  We rise a lot more before we hit the top.”

The wind grew stronger with every rod they ascended, and the horses began to pant with their severe exertions.  At Petty’s suggestion the three riders dismounted and walked for a while, leading their horses.  The rain turned to a fine hail and stung their faces.  Had it not been for his two good comrades Dick would have found his situation inexpressibly lonely and dreary.  The heavy fog now enveloped all the peaks and ridges and filled every valley and chasm.  He could see only fifteen or twenty yards ahead along the muddy path, and the fine hail which gave every promise of becoming a storm of sleet stung continually.  The wind confined in the narrow gorge also uttered a hideous shrieking and moaning.