Girl Scouts in the Rockies Part 28

"Ride back trail us come. An' ride fas', too."

But the fire kept on burning its way in the direction it began to go, and after a long rest on the crags to permit the pall of smoke to be blown away, the guides led the way down the slope. All the down-timber had been burned to ash which was still hot in spots. So the horses picked their way between these heaps. Every vestige of brush, all vegetation, and living creatures were gone. Charred tree trunks showed where the flames had licked up the bark to get at the pine branches overhead, and there, high above the heads of the riders, the fire still raged through the resinous tops.

"It's a Sodom and Gomorrah for desolation, isn't it?" said Julie.

In all the fire-swept district the scouts saw not one charred body of animals that live in the woods. A coyote lay at the edge of the area, dead from the blow of an animal with sharp claws, but that had happened after the fire. Julie thought the bear probably did it because the horrid little coyote tried to get a bite of fat little cub.

"But see all the poor, poor trees," sighed Betty.

"Yes, these fires destroy more timber than all other forces put together," returned Mr. Gilroy. "Because of the resinous matter in pine or spruce, they burn quicker and make a hotter fire than other trees. But fortunately for future forests, the flames never can reach the roots and seedlings buried under ground, so these shortly sprout up and start new timber.

"It is not often that a fire sweeps over the same area again for centuries, unless some fool tenderfoot leaves a campfire burning, or shakes the hot ashes from a pipe."

They all rode forward as quickly as possible, for night was coming on apace, and every one was anxious to get out of the burnt district before dark. So they pitched camp as soon as they got beyond the fire line.

That night, flares like torches shot up from many of the standing trees on the hillside, and they continued burning for several days after the under fire had pa.s.sed along. The light from these treetops cast weird shadows upon the camp.

"I never want to see another forest-fire," declared Joan, as she turned her face away from these flickering glares.

"None of us do, but as long as there _was_ a fire, we are glad to have seen it," replied Julie.

"And I'm glad it was a _little_ one," added the Captain.

"You wouldn't say that was a little fire, would you?" asked several of the scouts.

"Tally said it was not over a mile frontage, and that, he says, is a small one. If we saw a fire that stretched for miles along a forest ridge and kept on burning for days and days,--that, he claims, would be a big fire!"

All through that night blood-curdling cries came from the devastated district. The howls of panthers, growls of the bears, cries of coyotes, and yelps of timber-wolves, kept the campers awake. In the morning, Tally started early to seek the cause of such a clamor in the night.

"Dat ole dead coyote! Him mak all dat trubble," laughed the guide, upon his return to camp. "Dem starvin' an'mals all wand'da eat him, so dey fight and fight, but ole grizzle fight bes' an' git him."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LOST IN THE BAD LANDS

The following day the guides led the way up and down the sides of mountains, sometimes the trail running beside steep cliffs that rose sheer above the tourists' heads, and again past ravines where rushing, tumbling waters silenced all other sounds.

About noon of the third day after leaving Steamboat Springs, they reached the steepest climb of that trip. As they were nearing the top of the peak, Tally's horse suddenly fell over on its side and kicked its heels wildly.

The guide managed to jump clear of the leather and wild kicks, but the other riders sat speechless with fear at what was going to be the result of this awful spectacle. Before any one had time to offer help, however, the horse Mr. Gilroy rode did the same. The scouts immediately started to dismount, for they feared what might happen if their animals rolled and plunged as the first two were doing.

"Are they having fits?" asked Julie, anxiously.

"No, the unusually steep climb and the alt.i.tude affects horses this way quite often," explained Mr. Gilroy.

"I wish they'd let the rider know before they flop that way," said Joan, "then we might jump clear of their hoofs."

"If one had time to warn others of what was about to happen unexpectedly, very few people would have accidents," laughed Mrs.

Vernon.

In a few minutes the horses got upon their feet, shook themselves thoroughly, and then waited to proceed on the trail.

Another halfhour's climb and they all reached the top of the peak.

After leaving the timber-line, the riders found the scrub bushes grew scraggier and shorter, and finally the top of the peak was left as bare and craggy as any volcanic formation. From the top of one of these crags, Tally peered across an expanse of what looked like a rolling sea, but it was grey instead of blue-green.

When Mr. Gilroy saw this sea of sand, he quickly adjusted his gla.s.ses and gazed silently for a long time.

"Well, Tally, what do you make it out to be?" asked he.

"Him Bad Land--but I not know him in our way," returned the guide, apologetically.

"That's what I think about him--very bad land," chuckled Mr. Vernon, shading his eyes with both hands and staring down at the desert.

"What does that mean, Uncle? Do we have to cross it?" asked Julie.

"Either cross it, or go back the way we climbed and try to go around it--that means several days wasted on back-trailing."

"I can just discern the tiny thread of a trail that winds a way across that desert to the other side. We can easily follow the track and do it in one afternoon," said Mr. Gilroy.

"You don't think we shall be running any risks, do you?" ventured Mrs.

Vernon.

"None whatever. If we were down at the base of this peak, right now, you would see how simple a thing it is to ride across the sand. The only danger in these Colorado wastes is when a storm threatens. But the sky is as clear as can be, and the day is too far spent now, for the sun to start anything going."

"The only hazard we take in crossing the sand waste, is that darkness may overtake us before we reach the other side, and that might cause us to stray from the trail," suggested Mr. Vernon.

"With two good guides to lead us, we take no risk on that score,"

returned Mr. Gilroy.

"At least it will prove to be a novel trip--climbing mountains and riding over a desert of sand all in the same day," said Julie, eagerly willing to try the experience.

Luncheon was hastily disposed of, and Tally led them all down the steep trail of the mountainside for several hours. Then they reached the lodgepole pine, which is the only timber that can hold out against desert storms in bad weather and in winter.

"Before we begin this desert ride, do let's look for some water,"

begged Ruth. "I'm thirsty as a sandpiper."

"Quite appropriate, too, as long as we are going to be closely affiliated with the sand," giggled Joan.

Tally and the two men had gone on before, and had not heard Ruth's request, or they might have spared the scouts a great deal of unpleasantness. They had hoped to strike the trail they had seen across the desert, so they rode in different directions to locate it, and the captain and girls were left to amble slowly along until one or all of the men returned for them.

So it happened that Ruth and Joan wandered about in search of drinking-water, and shortly after they left the rest of the scouts, Mrs. Vernon heard Ruth call.

"Come here! We've found a lovely little spring!"