Chapter FOUR: Going Up!

"I hope we can say good-by to the old wagon to-day," said the Captain, after they were seated again, ready to resume the journey.

"You seem not to like our luxurious schooner?" laughed Mr. Gilroy.

"Luxurious! Had we but known what this ride would be like I venture to say every scout would have chosen to walk from Denver," exclaimed Mrs. Vernon.

"And here I've been condemning myself as being the only ingrate in the party!" returned Mr. Gilroy. "I remember with what enthusiasm the scouts hailed the suggestion of traveling _a la_ prairie schooner."

As the wagon came out from the screen of trees where they had camped for the night, the scouts saw the vapors in the valley eddy about and swiftly vanish in the penetrating gleams from the rising sun. Here and there patches of vivid green lay revealed, but in another half hour the sun would be strong enough, with the aid of a stiff breeze, to dispel all the clinging mists of night into their native nothingness.

"Just as our earthly pains and sorrows go," remarked Mrs. Vernon.

"Yes, Verny, just like Julie's dream, eh? She woke up and could hardly believe that she was here--safe and happy," added Joan.

The road was rough and the joggling was as bad as ever, but the scouts were not so resigned as they had been the day before. Every little while they asked, "_Now_ how far are we from Boulder?" for there they would have surcease from such "durance vile" as this mode of travel imposed upon them.

To distract their attention from physical miseries, Mr. Vernon asked a question, knowing that Mr. Gilroy would instantly divine his intention and follow it up.

"Gilroy, how do you explain the queer fact that the higher we go on these grand heights, the more stunted we find the trees? One would expect to find beautiful timber on top."

The scouts listened with interest, and Mr. Gilroy noted this and consequently took the cue given him.

"Why, timber-line in the West, Vernon, means more than the end of the forest growth. Most trees near the top of the peaks are stunted by the cold, or are twisted by the gales, and become bent or crippled by the fierce battles they have to wage against the elements. But they are not vanquished--oh, no!

"These warriors of the forests seem to realize with a fine intelligence how great is their task. They must protect the young that grow on the sides further down the mountain; they must hold back the destroying powers of the storm, that the _grand_ and _beautiful_ scions of this forest family be not injured. They have learned, through many courageous engagements with Nature's fierce winters, that the post appointed them in life can never offer them soft and gentle treatment while there remains such work as theirs to do, work that needs tried strength and brave endurance.

"I have never found a coward growing in the ranks of the closely-linked, shoulder-to-shoulder front of trees that mark the timber-line. Although they may not _seem_ to grow, materially, more than from eight to twelve feet high, and though many look deformed by the overwhelming conditions, so that they present strange shapes in comparison with the erect tall giants down the mountainside, yet I love to remember that in His perfect Creation, these same fighters have won greatness and eternal beauty for their service to others.

"In most cases, you will find that the higher the altitude of the peak and the wilder the winds, the closer grow the trees, as if to find increase of strength in the one united front that they present to the storms. These winter gales are so powerful that they tear at every object offering resistance to their destructive force. Thus the limbs growing on the outer side of the trees on timber-line are all torn away, or twisted back upon the parent trunk.

"But there are times when even the most valiant defenders of the forest are momentarily overpowered. There comes a blizzard; the gale howls and shrieks as it tears back and forth for days at a stretch, trying to force a passage through the defence line. And sometimes a little soldier is rooted up with malignant fury, and used by the merciless gale to batter at his companions. This generally proves futile, however.

"It is not always in the wintertime that the most terrific blizzards occur in the Rockies. In July, when all the country is pining for a breeze, these peaks produce blizzards that surpass anything heard of in winter, and these summer storms are the most destructive, as the trees are green and full of tender tips, that are ruthlessly torn off during the gale.

"Then, too, the summer months generally produce the awful snowslides you hear about, that are quite common in the Rockies."

"Oh, I wish we could see one of them!" exclaimed Julie, impulsively.

"Child, you don't know what you are saying!" said Mr. Gilroy, earnestly. "If you ever went through one, as I have, you'd never want to experience another, I assure you."

"Oh, Gilly! Do tell us about it," cried the scouts.

And Mr. Vernon added, "Yes, Gilroy, do tell us the story."

"It was many years ago, while I was on a geological trip through the Rockies. Tally and I were ready to start for a several days' outing on the peaks when the man we lodged with said, 'You are going out at a bad time. Some big slides have been reported recently.'

"I, like Julie here, said, 'I'd like the excitement of riding a slide.'

"The rancher said I was locoed, but he went about his business after that. So I took my snowshoes in case I met a slide and had to ride it.

"Tally and I were soon climbing the trail, and as we went higher and higher, I felt pleasantly excited to see several small slides start from distant peaks and ride ruthlessly over everything to gain a resting-place.

"Then we both heard a rumble and stood looking about. We now beheld a slide quite close at hand--on our own ridge but on the far side. It coasted slowly at first, but gathered momentum as it went, until it was flying downwards.

"It was about fifty feet wide and several hundred feet long, but it cut a clean channel through the forest, carrying great trees, rocks, and other objects on its crest. Before it had traveled five hundred yards, it had gathered into its capacious maw tons of debris, besides the vast blanket of snow it started out with. All this made a resistless force that swept over other forest impedimenta, dragging all along with its flood.

"It looked as if the village that snuggled at the foot of the mountain would be completely smothered and destroyed, when suddenly, the entire river of white was deflected by an erosion that had cut a wayward pathway across the mountainside. This attracted the slide down into the ravine. And as its mass went over the edge of the gulch, fine powdery particles filled the air, but nothing more than a dull, grinding sound rose to me as a tremor shook the ground, and I realized that it had found its end in the canyon.

"Upon my return to the ranch, I was told that that slide had cut down and ruined fifty thousand fine trees. Nothing could be done with them after such a battle with the slide.

"But the next day, as I still thrilled with the memory of the immense slide, I heard a rumbling sound just above where we were. Tally screamed, 'Look out. She come!'

"I saw snow sliding across a shallow depression above, and heading straight for me. Tally had managed to scramble quickly out of the way, and I worked those snowshoes faster than anything I ever did before or since--believe me!

"Before I could reach a safety zone, however, I was caught in the outer edge of the avalanche and whirled along for some distance. By dint of working those same snowshoes I managed to gain the extreme edge, where I flung myself recklessly out into space, not knowing where I might land.

"Fortunately, I was left sprawling with legs and arms about a pine, while the slide rioted on without me. I lifted my bruised head because I wished to see all I could of it, and I was able to witness the havoc it wrought in its descent. When it reached the bottom of the mountain it collided with a rocky wall on an opposite cliff. The first meeting of the snow with this powerful resistance curled it backward upon itself, while the rest of the slide piled up on top, and quickly filled the narrow valley with its debris.

"Had I not been so near the line of least suction, or had I been in the middle of that fearful slide, nothing could have saved me. I should have been buried under tons of snow even if I survived a death-dealing blow from a rock or tree during the descent.

"Now, Julie, do you still care to experience a hand-to-hand battle with a slide?"

"If it wasn't for all such thrilling adventures, Gilly, you wouldn't be so entertaining. When one is in the Rockies, one looks for experiences that go _with_ the Rockies," declared the girl.

Mr. Gilroy shook his head as if to say Julie was hopeless. But Joan laughingly remarked, "A snowslide wouldn't be any wilder than Julie's visit to old man Good Arrow in his castle."

"And about as frightful as the pit he would have thrown Julie into," added Mr. Gilroy.

"Joking aside, Scouts. We expect to meet with various thrilling adventures during our sojourn in the Rockies, and I don't believe one takes such dire risks if one is careful," said Julie.

"Maybe not, but you are not careful. In fact, you take 'dire risks' every time," retorted Mr. Gilroy.

Nothing was said for a few minutes, then Tally spoke, "Mees'r Gilloy--him come to Boulder, pooty quick!"

"Ha, that's good news!" remarked Mr. Vernon.

"Yes, and our little scheme worked fine, eh, Uncle," laughed Mr. Gilroy. But all the coaxings from the scouts could not make either man say what that scheme had been.

At Boulder the party gladly left the wagon for Tally to deliver to his brother, and the horses were turned over to the man they were intended for. While Tally was waiting for his brother's arrival, Mr. Gilroy found he could conduct his party through the Boulder Canyon, known as "The Switzerland Trail."

So they got on a train and rode through a canyon which, as the name suggested, was everywhere lined with great boulders of all shapes and sizes. Here a roaring torrent would cleave a way down to the bottom of the canyon, while there an abrupt wall of rock defied the elements and all things else to maintain its stand.

At Tungsten, the end of the trail, the scouts visited the district where this metal is mined. When they were through with the visit, Mr. Gilroy told the girls that Boulder County's record of income from tungsten alone was more than five million dollars a year.

The State University at Boulder was visited upon the return of the scout tourists to that city. Here the girls learned that the campus covered over sixty acres of ground, and that the university boasted of twenty-two splendidly equipped buildings, equal to any in the world. It also had a library of its own that numbered about eighty-three thousand volumes. The value of the buildings approximated one million, seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

"It doesn't seem possible, when you look around at what this place is--or seems to be!" exclaimed Ruth.

"Which goes to prove that appearances are not necessarily harmonious with facts," returned Mrs. Vernon, smilingly.

When they met Tally, who was waiting at the place appointed, Julie asked, "Where do we go from here, Gilly?"

"We'll follow Tally, as he seems to have a plan back of that grin," returned Mr. Gilroy.

Every one turned to look at Tally, who in turn seemed quite taken by surprise, as he said, "Tally no plan!"

"Ah, Tally! Will you never understand my winks!" sighed Mr. Gilroy. "I wanted you to help me out while I evaded an issue with these dreadful Scouts."

"Um, Tally glad to if Mees'r Gilloy onny tell him."

The others laughed at this guileless confession, and Mr. Gilroy shook his head despairingly. Then he said, "Well, I suppose I must 'fess up.'"

"Of course, if you have any hidden schemes back in _your_ brain," Julie retorted.

"This is it! Tally heard of a number of excellent horses to be had from a rancher near Loveland, so rather than wait about here for him to go and bring them back, we will go on to Loveland by train, and start from that place to ride through the Rocky Mountain National Park.

"You see, my first plan is entirely upset by a prairie schooner, an Indian, and a horse-dealer. I had expected to ride from Denver on horses secured there, and go to Ward. Then on across the Divide and so on to Hot Sulphur Springs and Steamboat Springs. But it seems the itinerary revised itself,--and it may turn out to be a good improvement on mine," said Mr. Gilroy.

"How far is the Continental Divide from Loveland?" asked Joan.

"That all depends on how far we want it to be," laughed Mr. Vernon. "One can get there in no time, or one can stop at all the attractive points along the trail and spend weeks reaching the Divide."

Then Mr. Gilroy added, "I propose leaving Loveland by an old Indian Trail Tally knows of, and thus reach Estes Park. We will take in Long's Peak on the way, and then ride on to the Divide, stopping to climb any peak we think interesting, or visit any park or moraine along the route."

So the party reached Loveland, where Tally bargained shrewdly with a rancher for the horses and two mules for the tourists. Naturally the rancher wished to sell his horses outright, but Tally convinced him how much better an arrangement it would be for all concerned to rent the animals for the season, leaving a cash security deposited with a bank to cover the loss in case any or all of the horses were lost or injured on the way. If all were returned to the rancher in good condition, Mr. Gilroy would receive his deposit back.

This entire section of Colorado was created a National Park by Congress, in January, 1915. And Estes Park is to the National Park what a beauty patch is to the face of a belle--the point of attraction that focuses the eye of the admirer.

This National Park offers plenty of room for more than a million campers, without one being so near his neighbor as to give a sense of encroachment. For those Americans who love the untrammeled life of the woods, this park provides wonderful trout streams; flora and fauna most surprising and beautiful; and not only plains, valleys, ravines, and mountain peaks as diverting places to visit, but lakes, rivers, falls, and every ideal spot of Nature that one craves to see.

In this National Park you may come unexpectedly upon a caribou grazing on the luscious grass, or in spring you may find a doting she-bear, leading her cubs to feast on the tender green shoots. But let your boots make the slightest noise, both these wild creatures will disappear so suddenly that you will rub your eyes to make sure you are awake. Other furred and feathered inhabitants of the forests will sit, screened behind the foliage and fern, laughing silently at your amateur ways of discovering them.

You may not be woodsman enough ever to spy them, but they are about, just the same. Furtive eyes will watch your every movement as you ride along the trail. The partridge that has effaced himself by merging his mottled feathers with the shaggy bark where he is hidden, saw every least thing you did. The wild hare, covered with tall grasses and fern, flicked his long ears in fun, when your awkward steps passed within an inch of his nose, and you never dreamed of his sitting there! The squirrels and woodchucks wondered at your clumsy ways in the wilderness. Did they not leap and run joyously without a sound? And you only have two feet to manage while they have four! In short, every denizen of the forest about you will know as if the message were flashed by wire, that a mere MAN is on his way through their domains.

The Park realm stretches along on the mountain top at an altitude of nine thousand feet, and more. And it embraces the most rugged section of the Continental Divide. Long's Peak rises about fourteen thousand two hundred feet high, and towers above the park plateau. It looks down upon ten or more other peaks that are only thirteen thousand feet high, and many more of twelve thousand feet altitude. Long's Peak is rocky and not easy to climb, but perfectly safe for man or beast. It is also free from the treacherous ice and snow that so often causes slides. Hence one can reach its summit, where a view of over a hundred miles of country is to be had. The Park is about twenty-five miles long and from ten to twenty miles wide.

This, then, was the wonderful place the scouts of Dandelion Troop were to visit and glory in.