was tanned by an Indian and adorns a bench in the Ranger Office.




[Illustration]

_Chapter VIII: THE DAY'S WORK_


The snow had been tumbling down every day for weeks, until several feet
lay on the ground. After each storm the rangers took snow plows and
cleared the roads along the Rim, but the rest of our little world lay
among big snow drifts. As we walked around among the houses, only our
heads and shoulders showed above the snow. It was like living in Alaska.
The gloomy days were getting monotonous, and when the Chief announced he
was going to make an inspection trip over Tonto Trail, I elected myself,
unanimously, to go along.

"But it's cold riding down there, even if there is no snow," protested
White Mountain. "And, besides, your horse is lame."

"Well, it isn't exactly hot up here, and I'll borrow Dixie. I'm going!"

Ranger West obligingly lent Dixie to me and I went. The thermometer
registered well below zero when we started down Bright Angel Trail. On
account of the icy trail my descent threatened to be a sudden one. Dixie
slid along stiff-legged, and I was half paralyzed with fright and cold.
But every time the Chief looked back, I pulled my frozen features into
what I considered a cheerful smile. I got more and more scared as we