Year: 1876

a. ohVV ia ShO ohOA acs


The followig piece of vivid description
is taken from the August installment OF
Mr.. Brooks story in 81. Nicholas, entitled
"The Boy Emigrants." Mont, one of
the boy emigrants, has been to the
nearest trading post, and is on his way
homeward with the supplies which he
has purchased strapped to the back OF
his horse, Jim. Beyond this, the ex-
tract needs no explanation:


When Mont resumed his journey next
day, the air was raw and chilly; slate
colored cloud closed over the foothills,
and mild but exasperating drizzle per-
vaded the plain as he left it and began
to ascend the undulations which here
seem like groupdswell, and higher up,
break into the tumultuous waves of the
Sierra.


Mont pushed on impatiently, riding
when the trail was easy, and leading his
loaded steed where the way was steep
and rough. Both horse and man were
in haste to get home. Mont grew fever
ish and apprehensive as he saw the snow
beginning to fall heavily, while he was
yet only on his second day from Nye's
Ranch. And when he camped that
night in the manzanita-bushes, it was
with great difficulty that he could kin
die fire. But he found partly
screened spot, where the snow sifted
lightly in, and he could camp in COM
parative comfort. Jim was relieved OF
his load, and tied in a clump of trees
which sheltered him; and Mont slept as
best he could, and this was not sleeping
well. His feet were sore with the chat
ing of rough pair of new boots, put on
when he left the trading post, and now
soaked with melting snow.


Next day, after Jim had browsed
among the bushes, and Mont had swal-
lowed little hot coffee, they struggled
on together, though the horse was now
obliged to wade in deep mass of snow,
and Mont desperately kept up by his
side.


Passing laboriously through the round
valley where he had made his first nights
camp, Mont entered the rocky jaws of
Scotchman's Valley. The day was we'll
advanced, but the sky was dark with
storm. Overhead, the air was thick as
with drifting whirl of snow. All trace
of the route had vanished from the
ground, and only few landmarks, which
Mont's practiced eye had noted as he
rode down the trail, served to show the
way in which he should 20. There was
the high, steep southern wall of the
canon, and there were the cabins on the
bench below the upper edge. Poor Mont
noted in the binding storm the blue
smoke curling from the chimneys of the
cabins, and he longed to be by the cheer
full fireside which he pictured to himself
was within. Like showers of feathers,
moist and large, the flakes fell, and fell
continually. Mont's feet were wet and
sore and lame. Once and again, he paused
in his struggles and eyed the dismal sight
around him, half wondering if he should
ever get through. The hapless horse
painted beneath his burden, groaning as
his master dragged him on through the
drifts. Once, Mont, with numb fingers,
united the thongs that bound part of the
load then, passionately crying aloud,
"No no can't lose these provisions p'
he made them fast again and labored on
ward.


He was now well up the canon. Just
opposite him were the cabins, and, as he
looked up at them, the air began to clear.
The snow fell only in scattering flakes,
and the clouds showed signs of breaking
away. Before him, however, the way
looked even more hopeless than when il
had been concealed by the falling storm.
Behind, few ragged, fading tracks
showed where man and horse had strug-
gled on in the drift.


Suddenly, a low and far-off moan broke
on the utter stiffness of the air. Mont,
scared and half fdelirious with excitement
and fatigue, looked up toward the south.
ern wall of the defile. The mountain
top seemed to be unloosed and falling
over into the valley. The whole side OF
the ridge appeared broken of, and as it
glided swiftly down, Mont NOTED, with
Fascinated minuteness of observation,
that a broad brown furrow showed be-
hind it where the earth was laid bare.
Down rushed the mighty avalanche. The
whole defile seemed to shut up like the
covers of book. In the twinkling the
three poor little cabins were wiped out as
with a wet sponge. The pallid mass
swept OIL With roar, its huge arms fly
ing up toward the skies. 1t was not so
much a wall of snow as resistless tor
rent, broad and deep. The young man
stood still, his heart ceased to beat; yet
he stood and gazed, unable to flee, as the
avalanche thundered down from bench
to bench, struck the bottom of the canon,
and spread out in a confused mass OF
whiteness. In an instant, horse and man
vanished in waste of snow. The mar.
row valley was filled, and only here and
there, where an uprooted tree or frag
ment of a wrecked cabin showed above
the surface, was there anything to break
the utter desolation.