CHAPTER LIV.

BY PYE POD.

It means, monsieur, that a storm is raging at the summit--a snow storm--which will be upon us ere long. And, dame! it is dangerous!--_Tartarin on the Alps._

We left Dayton at two o'clock. Carson City lay six miles away, close to the Sierra Nevadas, whose towering heights, on the Nevada side, rise abruptly from the plain. That afternoon's journey was the last we were to experience through the monotonous chaparral.

When we trailed into Carson, the sun had gone down behind the forest-covered mountains, leaving me a little less than thirteen days in which to reach San Francisco.

The leading hotel was pointed out to me, and a cheering crowd followed us there and called for a speech from me. While unstrapping our traps for the porter to take, we men answered inquiries about the trip, then conducted our animals to a stable, to be cared for.

I was glad to note that they were generally in good condition, although Damfino's shoulders were somewhat tender from the rubbing of the pack-saddle, as the result of her running away. Dr. Benton, at the stable, after dressing her shoulders, showed me the famous watch bequeathed to him by Hank Monk, the clever stage-driver of early days, to whom it was presented for having driven Horace Greeley over the pass to Placerville, in time to keep his lecture engagement.

I had just registered at the hotel, and was chatting with the group of men crowded round me, when a generous, good-natured gentleman edged through the cordon and grasped my hand.

"I'm going to take charge of you," he said, with a comical wink of the eye; "you are my guest while in town."

The next moment I found myself launched in an offhand lecture on my travels. And I should have talked myself hoarse had not my host led me out to his carriage. After telling the landlord to make Coonskin comfortable, I asked who the gentleman was who had taken me in custody.

"Why, he's Sam D----s; you've heard of Sam, of course--editor, writer and humorist--famous story-teller--the biggest 'josher' on earth----." But that was enough. I fled.

Indeed, Sam's reputation was known to me long before I arrived on his stamping ground. I leaped into the buggy, and we drove for his country home.

"Keep yer hand on yer pocket-book!" shouted one of my host's intimates; whereupon Sam turned to me with affected seriousness and observed, "Good advice. But I took the precaution to leave my money and watch at the office. I heard of your capture for donkey-stealing back in Iowa."

On the drive my host recalled many happenings of the golden days of the Comstock, which made me lose all reckoning of the present. Soon we had reached his ranch. When I met his family I was ready to believe some of his accounts of the practical jokes he claimed to have played on his fellows. I was somewhat disconcerted when he introduced me to his wife as a noted "road agent"--an old friend of his who had wavered from the path of rectitude--whom he desired to feed and hide from the sheriff's possè, hot on his trail. But I was amused when his good wife, who of all would be expected to know him best, apparently took his word for granted, and, regarding me with nervous suspicion, started to get me a quick lunch. But Sam delayed her a moment.

"Dan wants to entrust this $25,000 with me until he has eluded the possè," he said to his wife, taking my weighty saddle-bags and passing them to her. "There is no fire in the front-room stove, is there? Might shove 'em in there." She accepted the trust so seriously that I laughed outright, and exploded the joke. My hostess chuckled good-naturedly, and said that most any woman might take me for a bandit. I did look disreputable.

Adjoining the ranch were a few acres owned by "Mrs. Langtry," and sold to her by Sam, so he said, but how he made the deal is too good a story to be injured by my telling. I was up early next morning. In spite of my host's urgent invitation to remain another day, I drove to town with Sam after breakfast. There I was shown several places of interest.

Dark and threatening clouds hung over the mountains and alarmed me. My friend cautioned me to hasten across, if I would avoid the storm. By two o'clock my outfit left Carson and began the ascent of the steep trail over the pass to Glenbrook, a lumber camp on the shore of Lake Tahoe. Dr. Benton advised me to telephone him from Glenbrook, if it snowed so hard as to endanger us before crossing the second summit, in which case he volunteered to dispatch at once a relief expedition, with horses to break the trail and render me a safe conduct beyond the snow belt. I shall always remember the veterinary's thoughtfulness. My friend Sam must have been interested in the plan.

As higher we climbed the steep ascent, the air became more damp and chilly, and the heavy clouds looked more ominous. We men were afoot, for my donkeys were burdened enough. Mac A'Rony and Cheese were favored, merely carrying the saddles and guns, for Cheese seemed to be quite worn out, and Mac, while sound and strong, was the one, if it be decreed that only one should survive, I wished to take through. The donkeys often stopped for breathing spells, and not until we neared the summit did they require urging to make the fatiguing climb.

By this time we were over our ankles in snow. The biting wind came down over the pass in aggressive sorties and volleyed blasts of cutting snow dust in our faces, nipping our ears and noses, and blinding us. By reason of the fast-falling flakes and the darkness, the donkeys often lost the trail, and the snow obscured the rocks over which we all continually stumbled and slipped.

At length, when we stood on the summit and looked back over that battle-ground, I think all of us took courage for the final conflict awaiting us on the next and higher pass.

We arrived at Glenbrook at eight o'clock and found cozy quarters for all. The storm having driven everybody indoors, the place looked coldly uncordial for a time; but as soon as its warm-hearted people were apprised of my arrival they hastened to welcome me. When provision had been made for the comfort of my animals, I returned with Coonskin to the hotel, where a hot supper had thoughtfully been provided for us. And there we recounted our adventures, which evidently afforded our auditors the keenest enjoyment.

Morning revealed a dreary prospect. The snow was a foot deep, and it was still falling thick and fast. My friends urged me to tarry until the storm had abated, but I set out, after an early breakfast, for Myer's Station, twenty miles away. There I hoped to find feed for us all, and, should the storm be over by that time, comfortable shelter for the night.

The trail followed the shore of beautiful Lake Tahoe--never more severely grand and picturesque than now--followed it many miles before it led into the majestic, white-clad forest. The snow fell incessantly, while the rays of the sun, peeping through its cold armor, either melted it into slush or softened it so as to "ball up" the donkeys' hoofs and render their tramp more difficult.

When we reached Myer's Station it was snowing harder than in the morning, so I resolved to rest an hour and to cross the pass that night. The solitary tavern first came into view through the dense snow-screen, not a hundred feet away. It was four o'clock. Then a barn loomed up beyond and across the trail, and I felt grateful. I had great confidence in Skates, Damfino and Coxey; Coonskin and I had ridden but a little that day, so that, if Mac A'Rony and Cheese could fortify themselves with plenty of grain, I had hopes of getting all five over the summit.

Alas! my hopes were soon shattered. There was neither grain nor hay to be had. The landlord explained that he didn't keep "no cattle." Even the pantry was depleted, but my host would find a bite for us men, and "boil" us some tea, which would have to suffice until the expected supplies arrived. They might be delayed by the storm until morning. Meanwhile we shouldn't starve. I didn't intend my animals should starve, either, but bought several loaves of bread and fed it to them.

"Don't think I am going to stay here over night," I said to the tavern-keeper.

"You don't mean to cross the summit in this storm!"

I nodded. At that moment a man stumbled in, accompanied by a frigid gust of wind, and, walking to the stove, stamped the snow off his high boots, unwound a tippet from his neck, and slapped his ice-covered hat against his limbs.

"Whose jackasses be them outside?" he inquired.

"Mine," I replied.

"Where ye bound with them?"

"Over the pass to Placerville."

The man laughed, then, looking sober, inquired, "Where yer from, may I ask?"

"New York," I said, nonchalantly.

"Not with them little burros?"

"With one of them."

"Je-ru-salem! I don't know but ye may cross with 'em!" he exclaimed, in astonishment. "But I doubt it. Jest fetched down my four horses--left the wagon up to the hubs in snow half-way up the trail--snow must be three foot deep on the summit. You'll leave your carcasses in the snow, if ye try it, I'm tellin' ye."

Said the proprietor, "If you will wait here till to-morrow, there'll be five hundred cattle cross the pass and break the trail for you."

"I go to-night," said I, "and will break the trail for the cattle."

I thanked both men for their kind caution, but said such impediments had stared me in the face ever since leaving New York, and never yet one of them proved to be an obstacle. As we moved off, the men stood in the hotel door, gaping in mute wonderment at my stubborn resolution.

Darkness gathered ere we began the ascent of the mountain. Slowly the donkeys climbed the slippery trail, Coonskin, upon my advice, walking beside Cheese and watching him with utmost concern. The snow scudded against our faces, although the mountain somewhat shielded us from the biting gale we had faced all day. The three stronger animals carrying the packs walked ahead, while close behind them struggled Cheese and Mac, supporting our saddles and lighter traps, we men encouraging them the while with kind words and allowing them a few moments' rest every time they stopped.

Soon I feared lest Cheese would give out. At length, when about one-third the summit was climbed, he stopped and deliberately lay down. I knew that meant his abandonment, then and there. We might induce him to climb a little further, but we might better free him at once; he would likely find his way back to the station. So we took off his saddle and bridle, cinched them on Mac, and, saying a sad farewell, hid our faces in our sleeves, and soon had climbed beyond his vision. It was no time to indulge in sentiment. Once or twice Mac, Cheese's oldest comrade, stopped and looked behind, then with a soft bray resumed the ascent; and from the distance at once came Cheese's response, causing my eyes to fill with tears. No two human beings could have shown more tender feelings at parting than did those two heroic little donks.

Finally we came to the abandoned wagon, half enveloped in whiteness. I had no idea of the hour, but it must have been eleven o'clock when my sturdy leader, Skates, began to stop for rest at every twenty paces.

An hour later we could make only ten feet headway with every undertaking. I was afraid another donkey would drop at any moment. Several times I thought we had reached the summit, when a turn of the Z trail showed a clear space, with Skates far in the lead, ploughing and dragging her burden through two feet of snow.

Suddenly, when we had all but reached the summit, as we after learned, Damfino fell with a groan. She was so strong and hardy, I had not anticipated her giving out. Coonskin thought she had slipped and broken a leg. We took off part of her pack, and at length succeeded in getting her on to her feet; but not far beyond she again fell, when, realizing it was from fatigue, we left her, with all the supplies on. We had no way to carry them, and I still had hopes of her resting out and trailing over after us.

It was now a question of life and death. Could I but get Mac A'Rony through, even by leaving all else behind, I should do so and fight to the bitter end. Mac was certainly a wonder. After thirty-eight hundred miles of travel, during a period of three hundred and thirty-odd days, he was chipper and nabbed at me mischievously as I kindly twisted his tail.

Eureka! At last we stood on the summit of that high Arctic pass of the snow-bound Sierras! Man and beast were ensconced in snow and ice, and my ears and face and hands and feet were numb; but I was too happy to feel any suffering. Could Cheese and Damfino have been with us then, I should have been jubilant.

The battle was won. I could now see myself, in my mind's eye, in company with Mac in Golden Gate Park, gazing out on the balmy Pacific. After a quarter hour's rest, we resumed the journey through the two and a half feet of snow, until, after several resting spells, we began gradually to descend. The air at once felt milder; the snow had ceased falling; as if crushed with defeat, the elements had retreated.

It must have been two in the morning when Coonskin, who was in advance beside Skates to check her impetuosity, shouted, "Helloa, Pod, I see a house!" I threw my hat in the air with delight. We had expected to have to wade through snow until daylight. Were we all to find a refuge in that half-buried cabin?