steeper, a singular darkness, which even the density of the wood did not
sufficiently account for, surrounded them, but still their leader
madly urged them on. To Hale's returning senses they did not seem in a
condition to engage a single resolute man, who might have ambushed in
the woods or beaten them in detail in the narrow gorge, but in another
instant the reason of their furious haste was manifest. Spurring his
horse ahead, Clinch dashed out into the open with a cheering shout--a
shout that as quickly changed to a yell of imprecation. They were on
the Ridge in a blinding snow-storm! The road had already vanished under
their feet, and with it the fresh trail they had so closely followed!
They stood helplessly on the shore of a trackless white sea, blank and
spotless of any trace or sign of the fugitives.

"'Pears to me, boys," said the ostler, suddenly ranging before them,
"ef you're not kalkilatin' on gittin' another party to dig ye out, ye'd
better be huntin' fodder and cover instead of road agents. 'Skuse me,
gentlemen, but I'm responsible for the hosses, and this ain't no time
for circus-ridin'. We're a matter o' six miles from the station in a bee
line."

"Back to the trail, then," said Clinch, wheeling his horse towards the
road they had just quitted.

"'Skuse me, Kernel," said the ostler, laying his hand on Clinch's rein,
"but that way only brings us back the road we kem--the stage road--three
miles further from home. That three miles is on the divide, and by the
time we get there it will be snowed up worse nor this. The shortest cut
is along the Ridge. If we hump ourselves we ken cross the divide afore
the road is blocked. And that, 'skuse me, gentlemen, is MY road."