Adventure Magazine Cover — page 159: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Enough is Enough A little later they emerged from Granite Basin’s narrow outlet high upon the west wall of Thunder River Gorge, far above ‘timber-line, with the river a sheer mile below. For miles after that the trail skirted the rugged cafion wall, snow- covered slopes rising steeply above them to far, glaciered heights. Bradley rode with keen eyes scanning the line ahead, watching for tilting loads— for a shifted pack means at least a galled back, and possibly a seance of bucking that ends in stampede and disaster. Before the first hour had passed, a chinook—the soft, warm breath of the Pacific, sweeping inland—was sighing down from the ridges above him. Before its magic touch the snow far down on the lower slopes van- ished and the deeper mantle in the higher regions began to thaw at a rate beyond belief. Countless cascades, newly born in melt- ing drifts, descended dizzy slopes from snow-fields to timber-line—feathery rib- bons of white that vanished and were lost in dark forests below. Every little gulch crossing the trail became a foaming torrent. The sullen booming of Thunder River rose from the depths, mingling and blending in rhythmic beats with the fainter roar of the distant, swollen White Water. Early in the forenoon it commenced. to rain—first in scattered drops, then a deluge. The riders donned their slickers, turned down the brims of their hats, and made the best of it. After an hour of this the trail became a ditch filled with watery slush, through which the horses splashed, - stumbled and floundered with their heavy loads. The air grew sultry as the hours passed, the rain increased in violence, and progress became more difficult. Packs shifted fre- quently, necessitating a halt of the en- tire train while they were righted and the c'inches tightened. A little before noon the trail entered upon a small bench on the mountain side, and Mason halted the leaders. Bradley kept the rest of the train moving ahead until the animals were bunched on the level patch of snow. 3 % , what a trail!’ he grumbled to Mason as the latter joined him. ‘No bot- tom to it at all!” “It sure is pretty soft,’’ Mason admitted. 149 “Couldn’t well be any harder going for the cayuses. Look at ’em, Dave. Darn near all in, every one of ’em, right now!” “They sure are,’ Bradley agreed, filled with pity for the heaving, lathered animals. “Steve, I hate to tackle it, but we’ve got to unload that ore an’ let those poor devils blow for a while. It’s a man-size job, but we'll never make Camp Three tonight if we don’t.” The unloading took more than a half- hour of hard work, but at last the heavy sacks lay scattered about on the snow. There was nothing for the horses to browse upon, and the weary animals, now bur- dened only with pack-saddles and empty alforjas, stood miserably about in varying attitudes of dejection; backs humped, heads drooping dispiritedly. The two men, seated on ore-sacks, ate their cold, soggy sandwiches in silence. A warm wind was rising, and the driving rain lashed their oilskins noisily. “Steve, I don’t like the looks of things one little bit,’ Bradley announced gloomily when he had finished. “This is sure the biggest thaw this here Cascade Range has ever seen, or I miss my guess. This soft top-snow is soakin’ up the rain like a sponge, and meltin’ like Billy-be Look at this.”’ He kicked the snow at his feet. “Slush! If.this rain don’t let up pretty soon—well, you know what’s goin’ to happen.”’ “Sure I know. She’ll slide like —— an’ then some!”’ “You bet she’ll slide! I tell you what, boy—I wish we were past the Shoulder right now, an’ the outfit trailin’ along all safe and sound down below timber-line. Steve, if we make the White Water tonight without losin’ a pony, we'll be in luck.”’ There was a note of anxiety in his tone and a worried look in his eyes that did not escape his young partner. ‘“‘This rain’s comin’ down too fast to keep it up,’ Mason declared cheerfully. ‘She'll rain herself plumb out, at this rate, and quit in an hour or so. The Shoulder’s a long ways off yet, Dave—so don’t worry about that until we come to it.” ‘Bradley brightened and poked his partner in the ribs. “You cussed optimist!’ he grinned. “Sometimes I’m a heap tempted to lam you. Well, let’s load up and vamoose.”’ NOOK C©