of tfc 



my gulch. Nothing could be seen, but several 

 slaps in the face from dashes of snow which 

 these rock missiles disturbed and displaced was 

 expressively comprehensive. 



As this brief bombardment ceased, the omi- 

 nous sounds from above echoing among the 

 cliffs shouted warning of an advancing land- 

 slide. This gave a little zest to my efforts to 

 get out of the gulch; too much perhaps, for 

 my scramble ended in a slip and a tumble back 

 to the bottom. In the second attempt a long, 

 uncovered tree-root reached down to me in the 

 darkness, and with the aid of this I climbed 

 out of the way of the avalanche. None too 

 soon, however. With quarreling and subdued 

 grinding sounds the rushing flood of landslide 

 material went past, followed by an offensive 

 smell. 



While I paused listening to the monster groan 

 and grind his way downward, the cliffs fired a 

 few more rock missiles in my direction. One 

 struck a crag beside me. The explosive contact 

 gave forth a blast of sputtering sparks and an 

 offensive, rotten-egg smell. A flying fragment 



232 



