CHAPTER XIII 



RETURN TO WATERFALL CAMP 



HOURS of awful weather followed. Wind howled and 

 rain was cast in sheets against our tents, which faith- 

 fully kept it out, but made plenty of noise in so doing. The 

 doors were tightly closed. Little recked we of what went on 

 without till the careful Gregory, looking forth, discovered 

 our row of boots acting as so many rain-gauges. Boldly 

 rushing out into the slush with naked feet, he emptied them 

 and laid them on their sides, as boots in the open should 

 always be laid, a rule the thoughtless Carl never could learn. 

 It was a dreadful time for the ponies. To begin with, there 

 was almost nothing for them to eat and no solid ground to 

 stand upon. Their tracks afterwards enabled us to infer some 

 of their adventures. Apparently, after taking a good look 

 round and nibbling a bit here and there, becoming frequently 

 bogged in the process, they agreed that the valley was in- 

 tolerable, and set off to return. They kept along the river 

 bank on the snow, picking their way not unskilfully, and 

 making fair progress, till they were brought up sharply by 

 lack of foresight. They were on an ice promontory, which 

 fell precipitously to the river on one hand, a depth of 

 twenty feet, and was cut off on the other side by impas- 

 sable bog. A snow-bridge at the point of the promontory 

 spanned a side stream that entered there. They considered 

 this bridge maturely, advancing to it, putting forth a tenta- 

 tive hoof, retreating, advancing again, and so on, till the 



whole firm area was trodden down with their footprints. 



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