Part 23 (1/2)
”Oh, Polly, how thrilling!” exclaimed Eleanor.
”Once when father and I rode over this same trail to find a trapper who had pelts for sale, we got caught in a blizzard. We got the pelts but we also got the storm, and lucky for us that we had the pelts first.
”I never had experienced a real mountain storm, but father had, so he showed me what to do. I think I would know now just what to do in case of another surprise.”
”Bu-r-r-r! Let's hope you won't have to practice on us,” laughed Eleanor, pretending to s.h.i.+ver.
”Stop your nonsense, Nolla! I don't want to think of such dreadful things,” cried Barbara.
”And I want to hear about how the pelts saved her life,” added Anne.
”It's real interesting, Bob, so let me tell them,” asked Polly, and receiving no unfavorable word or look, she proceeded:
”It was the Fourth of July, and of course no one would start on a ride wearing a fur-lined coat, so father and I had on our summer clothes.
”After riding along Top Notch Trail for a time, we met the trapper and bargained for the furs, then started back by a new trail he told us of.
It led past PaG.o.da Peak, and just as we got to the base of the peak and discovered the down-trail, the blizzard came swooping upon us without warning.
”Father and I tried to keep going, but the gale traveled too fast and blew in whirling eddies, so we got the pelts out of the bundle, and wrapped ourselves in the largest ones. The smaller ones we used for our feet. Father found two great bear-skins and covered the horse--that acted as a s.h.i.+eld on one side from the storm--the other horses stood in front and back of us, making three sides protected.
”Father then made me creep with him to the refuge made by the three horses and there we remained. The horses stood perfectly still throughout the blizzard, which lasted only an hour at most, and the steam they exuded from their bodies kept us quite warm as we crouched under them.
”When the storm blew over, we dug a way out and removed the horse blankets and fur pelts from the horses. Then we rolled our own coverings into the bundle and started on down-trail. But the floods of melting snow caused wash-outs and it was risky going. When we reached the first Park never a sign of snow was there, and the only result of that mountain blizzard was an added flood of water pouring down the gulleys to the bottoms and valley.”
”Oh, Polly, what an interesting book your adventures would make!”
exclaimed Eleanor.
”I'd like to write it down as you tell it, Polly, and we can surely find a publisher for it,” added Anne, eagerly.
”Really! Oh, how I'd love to tell such a story!” said Polly, all enthusiasm.
”We'll try it as soon as we get back to-night!” promised Anne.
The going was easy, so Polly told of other adventures: of the trip to Buffalo Park when a bear chased them; of her meeting with Old Montresor, the gold-seeker of Grizzly Slide and his pitiful story; of the nights spent out on the mountains, watching beside a dying camp-fire, or listening to the call of the moose to his mate on a moonlit night; of the wonderful sport fis.h.i.+ng in trout-filled streams, or seeking gorgeous flora and strange fauna on the peaks, and again photographing wild beasts and birds that never showed a fear of her as she traversed their domains. The three girls were spell-bound at her vivid descriptions and Anne sighed with desire to put it all down on paper for future publication.
”Montresor's Mine is in this mountain that I want to show you to-day.
He was a dear old man who lived a solitary life in a cabin near Buffalo Park. Patsy, his dog, was his only companion. But he died and left me his mine--that we never found again,” sighed Polly.
”Oh, Polly! Tell us the story!” chorused the girls.
Polly laughed: ”It isn't a story, 'cause there never was a climax as real stories have to have, you know. But I'll tell you how I met Mr.
Montresor. I was out with Noddy, one day, and we traveled farther than usual.
”In leaving a bad trail to take a good one, I met the gray-haired man slowly riding up. An Irish terrier ran back of his horse, sniffing, sniffing, and whining as if distracted. I was so surprised at the dog's actions that I stopped to ask the man what ailed him.
”'Ah, my child, Patsy is seeking for my lost mine!'
”'Your lost mine!' I gasped, for I had never heard of him or his mine, although folks said there was a rich vein of gold somewhere in the mountain.[Footnote: This is a true incident.] ”'Yes, child, I am the unfortunate Montresor. Haven't you heard of my great loss?'