The Glenwood post. (Glenwood Springs, Colo.) 1897-current, 1921-01-22

on the still hillside, knowing only
great wonderment At first his only
impulse was to 60 back to sleep. He
didn't understand the grayness that
had come upon the mountain world,
his own strange feeling Of numbness,
Of endless soaring through infinite
spaces. But he was mountain man,
and that meant he was schooled. be-
yond all things, to keep his seif-con-
troll. He made himself remember. Yes
he had been cutting wood on the
hillside. and the shadows had been
long. He had been wondering wheth-
er or not they should go down to the
valleys.
He remembered now: the last blow
and the rolling log. He tried to turn
his head to look up to the hill.
He found himself wholly unable to
do 1t. Something wracked him in his
neck when he tried to move. But he
did glance down. And yes, he could
turn in this direction. And he saw
the great tree trunk lying twenty feet
below him, wedged in between the
young pines.
H., was surrounded by broken frag-
ments of limbs, and 1t was evident
that the tree had. not struck him a
full blow. The limbs had protected
him to some extent. No man is OF
such mold as to be crushed under the
solid weight of the trunk and live to
remember It, He wondered If this
were the frontier of death-the gray
ness that fingered over him. He
seemed to be soaring.
He brought himself back to earth
and tried again to remember. or
course, the twilight had fallen. 1t had
been late afternoon when he had cut
the tree. His hand stole along his
body; and then, for the first time,
hideous sickness came upon him. His
band was warm and wet when he
brought 1t up. The other hand he
couldn't stretch at all.
The forest was silent around him.
except bird calling somewhere near
the house-a full voice, rich and clear,
and 1t seemed to him that it had
quality Of distress Then he recognized
1t. 1t was the voice of his own daugh-
ter, Snowbird, calling for him. he
tried to answer her.
1t was only whisper, at first. Yet
she was coming nearer; and her own
voice sounded louder. Here. Snow
bird" he called again. She heard him
then: he could tell by the startled
tone Of her reply. The next instsr
she was at his side, her tears drop
ping on his face.
With a tremendous effort of will he
recalled his speeding faculties. II
don't think I'm badly hurt" he told
her very quietly. "A few ribs broken
and leg But we'll have to winter
here on the Divide. Snowbird mine."
"What does 1t matter. II you liver
she cried. She crawled along the pine
needles beside him. and tore his shirt
from his breast. He was rapidly sink
ing into Inconsistencies. The thing
she dreaded most-that his back might
be broken-was evidently not true.
There were, as he said, broken ribs
and evidently one severe fracture Of
the leg bone. Whether he had sus-
tanned internal injuries that would
end his life before the morning, she
had no way of knowing.
At this point, the problem of saving
her fathers life fell wholly into her
hands. His broken body could not be
carried over the mountain road to
physicians in the valleys. They must
be transported to the ranch. 1t would
take them full day to make the trip,
even If she could get word to them at
once; and twenty-four hours without
medical attention would probably cost
her father his life. The nearest tele-
phone was at the ranger station ,
twelve miles distant over mounbssr-s
trail. The telephone line to Bald
mountain, four miles OFF, had been dis
connected when the rains had ended
the peril Of the forest fire.
1t all depended upon her. Bill was
driving cattle into the valleys, and he
and his men had In use all the horses
on the ranch with one exception. The
remaining horse had been ridden by
Dan to some distant marshes, and as
Dan would shoot until sunset that
meant he would not return until ten
o'clock. There was no road for car
to the ranger station, only rough
steep trail, and she remembered, with
sinking heart. that one of Bits mis-
sions In the valley was to procure
new lighting system. BY no conceiv-
able possibility could she drive down
that mountain road in the darkness.
But she was somewhat relieved by the
thought that in all probability she
could walk twelve miles across the
mountains to the ranger station In
much less time than she could drive,
by automobile, seventy miles down to
the ranches at the foothills about the
valley.
Besides, she remembered with
pladdeninD heart that Rycbard1 ma