But it sure
isn't proving any picnic for you. It's a lot worse in this way than I
thought it would be. And we've got to get in there before the snow
begins to fly, or it will play the dickens with us."
Many a strange shift were they put to. Once Bill had to fell a great
spruce across a twenty-foot crevice. It took him two days to hew it
flat so that his horses could be led over. The depth was bottomless to
the eye, but from far below rose the cavernous growl of rushing water,
and Hazel held her breath as each animal stepped gingerly over the
narrow bridge. One misstep--
Once they climbed three weary days up a precipitous mountain range,
and, turned back in sight of the crest by an impassable cliff, were
forced to back track and swing in a fifty-mile detour.
In an air line Roaring Bill's destination lay approximately two hundred
miles north--almost due north--of Hazleton. By the devious route they
were compelled to take the distance was doubled, more than doubled.
And their rate of progress now fell short of a ten-mile average.
September was upon them. The days dwindled in length, and the nights
grew to have a frosty nip.
Early and late he pushed on.
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