The way was still certain, a rude path coiling among the hills, from which the sheets of ice glistening like new glass, and as treacherous, forbade us to turn. Sometimes the wind would blow, and the ice-clad bushes would rattle together to the tune of castanets. Our stock of bruises grew with steadiness and certainty, but we could boast of progress.

Once the path dipped down between two peaks of unusual height. The wind was blowing rather sharply at the time, and from the white head of the higher peak on our left came a faint rumble. Crothers showed alarm and urged us to greater speed. I half guessed what he meant, and lent Grace an arm to hurry forward. The rumble grew to a roar, and we had just turned the dangerous defile when the avalanche plunged down the slope into the path we had left, setting all the echoes astir and sending up a cloud of white snow-dust. I am of opinion that several tons of valuable ice and packed hail were wasted in that drift, but as we escaped it all perhaps we have no right to complain.

We passed the spot at which I had been retaken, and thence the way was new to me. But its character did not change. The untenanted mountains seemed to roll away to the end of the world.

"We ought to reach the hut by the middle of the afternoon," said Crothers.

"What's the hut?" I asked, having heard nothing before of such a place. Then Crothers explained that it was a rude little cabin which the colonel had erected beside the path, to be used as a stopping-place on the way to the outside world, or as a lodge on hunting expeditions. He was hopeful that we would find the colonel or the doctor or both there. It seemed to me very probable that we would.

Grace, who had been somewhat down-hearted, though she never complained, cheered up at the prospect of the hut, and in truth all our little army pressed forward with fresh zest and enthusiasm. Hope is easily able to pin itself upon little things. We walked and slid along at much better speed, and Crothers even told stories of winter campaigns, though he was forced to admit that he had never found skates quite so necessary as they seemed to be now.

Our path led directly toward a ridge which seemed to block the way like a wall.

"Up there on the comb of that ridge is the hut," said Crothers.

Though my muscles complained and my bruises were as numerous as the spots on a leopard, I was full of ambition to reach this little lodge of logs, which seemed to me to be a fit home for some Robinson Crusoe of the mountains. Presently Crothers uttered a joyful grunt,—he never rose to the dignity of an exclamation,—and pointed to a find blue trail of smoke rising like a white plume from the slender comb of the ridge.

"That's from the hut," he said, "and somebody's there, sure."

His logic seemed sound. The smoke had a most comfortable, home-like look. It was a bit of warmth and cheer in the cold, white wilderness. It encouraged us so much that we were willing to wager we would find both the colonel and the doctor there, good friends again, and ready to return with us to Fort Defiance.

As we advanced, the column was defined more clearly against the sky, and Crothers was positive that it came from the hut.

"It's built in a little patch of woods on a level spot of about a quarter of an acre," he said, "and my eye says the smoke rises straight from that spot."

By and by, as we climbed the slope, we could see the hut itself, coated with ice like the trees. The smoke was coming from the little mud chimney, and we guessed that a fine fire was blazing on the hearth. I, for one, began to wish that I was sitting in front of that same fire, listening to the popping of the dry wood as the flames ate into it. But Grace outstripped us, in so far as her cause for anxiety was greater than ours. She ran forward, pushed open the door of the hut, and sprang inside. We heard a cry of disappointment, and, following her, found the hut was empty, save for ourselves.

Upon the stone hearth the fine fire that I had pictured to myself was really blazing. Upon a bench lay some scraps of bread and meat, but the host, whoever he might be, was absent.

It was a little place, not more than seven or eight feet square, with a roof that the head of a tall man could touch. Two or three deerskins were on the floor, some antlers were fastened on the wall, and besides the bench there were three rude little stools. It was not exactly a drawing-room, but it was a warm and hospitable spot in the wilderness. At least it seemed so to me. Grace sat down on one of the stools and leaned her head against the wall, too brave to cry, but not strong enough to conceal all her disappointment. She had been sure that we would find the colonel in the hut.

"Since the landlord of the hotel is away and there is no one to welcome us, I propose that we welcome ourselves," I said, wishing to appear cheerful.

Crothers silently seconded the motion by throwing fresh wood on the fire, drawing up a stool, and warming his hands. Then we held a brief council of war. It was obvious that some one had been at the hut, but whether the colonel or the doctor there was nothing to indicate. Whichever it might be, it was most likely that he would soon return, and we concluded that it was our best plan to pass the night there. It was late in the day, and no one could think of any other course that promised better. Crothers and I scouted a bit in the neighborhood, but we discovered nothing of the lodge's missing tenant. Whoever he was, he seemed to have gone on a long journey from his table and fireside, and we had little to do but appropriate his table, sit at his fireside, and wait for his return.

The end of the day was near, and the night promised to be very cold. Autumn might be lingering yet in the low-lands, but up here in the mountains, close to the skies, winter was sovereign. The sun went over the hills, the whiteness of the earth turned to pallor, and in the dusk the icy mountains gleamed cheerless and cold. I was very glad that necessity bade us stay at the hut.

We bestirred ourselves and gathered wood, for we intended to keep a good fire all night. We assigned Grace to one corner beside the fireplace, and made a screen for it by hanging up two or three deerskins. Then we heaped the wood on the fire until the blaze roared up the chimney. A little window, a mere cut in the logs, a half-foot square, was left open. When I went out I could see the light of the fire shining through it, and casting long streaks of red across the ice, the one friendly beacon in the dreary wilderness.

As the day waned and the night took its place, I began to fear that it was neither the colonel nor the doctor who had built the fire, or surely he would have returned before this. After all, it might have been some stray hunter or mountaineer who had lighted the comfortable blaze, warmed himself, and passed on, leaving it to serve the same purpose for any other who might come.

At that point the mountains were more accessible than farther back toward Fort Defiance. One might penetrate them in several directions if he were willing to risk falls on the sheet ice. Several of us, taking our alpenstocks, explored the neighborhood again. The light was sufficient, the reflection from the ice throwing a kind of pale glow over everything. But our explorations brought no profit, and, the night, as we had expected, turning very cold, we returned to the hut.

We stacked our rifles against the wall and composed ourselves for rest. We did not realize, until the necessity for exertion was over, how very tired we were. Grace retired to her curtained corner, and in a few minutes was so still there that we knew she must be asleep despite anxiety. Some of the soldiers stretched themselves upon the floor, and they, too, soon slept. Another, sitting upon a stool, with his head against the wall, snored placidly. We saw no necessity for keeping watch, and even the vigilant Crothers lay down upon the bench, where his eyes soon closed and his breathing became long and regular. The last army of the Confederacy was sound asleep, and the colonel's Yankee spy alone was awake.

They were old, men mostly, heads gray, almost white, and faces deeply seamed, like the colonel's. But they looked to me like a loyal lot, and my sympathy went out to these old fellows, every one of whom I had no doubt carried old scars on his body. I was sitting on a stone before the fire, trying to read my fortune in the deep bed of coals. Tiring of the vain pursuit, I walked to the little window. The old soldiers slept such a tired and heavy sleep that my footsteps did not disturb them.

I could see nothing but the mountains, cold and white as a tombstone, and hear nothing but the occasional rattle of the loose ice as it fell from the trees and shattered on the thicker ice below.

I went back to the fire, picked out a convenient place in front of it, and decided that I too would recognize the claims of exhaustion and sleep, which were now growing clamorous. Doubling up my blanket and putting it under my head for a pillow, I stretched myself out with my feet to the fire and resumed my old occupation of studying the red coals and the fortune that might be written for me there. I had done it many a time as a boy, and as a man I was not changed.

The regular and heavy breathing of the sleepers had something soothing in it. The logs burned through, crumbled, and fell in coals, adding to the glowing mass. With my half-closed eyes making much from little and seeing things that were not, I built castles in the fire and sent troops of real soldiers marching through them. When the fourth castle was but half finished, I closed my eyes and joined the others in sleep.

Perhaps it was the strangeness of these scenes, much more strange to me than to the others, that disturbed and excited my brain while I slept, and by and by made me waken. The great heap of coals had sunk but little lower, and I reckoned that I had not slept more than two hours at the farthest. It was very warm in the room, for we had not been chary with the fire, and I turned to the little window for fresh air.

Framed in the window I saw very distinctly a pair of bright eyes and a part of a human face. The eyes gazed at me, and I am quite sure I returned the stare with equal intentness. We had hoped for a visitor, but we did not expect to find him at the window.

I rose quickly to my feet, and the face was withdrawn. Wishing to look into the matter myself without disturbing the others, I walked lightly to the door, on the way stepping over the prostrate bodies of two or three members of the Confederate army. I opened the door and went out. When I came to the window I found that my man was gone, but not fifty feet away, walking toward the recesses of the mountains, was a tall, slender figure. I knew that military bearing could belong to none other in those mountains than Colonel Hetherill, and I felt sure also that it was he who had been looking through the window at us.

I ran after him, but he was better accustomed to sleety mountains than I, and the distance between us widened. He curved around a hillock, and for a few moments was out of my sight, but when I too passed the hillock I saw him straight ahead, his shoulders stooped a little, but walking swiftly as if he were bent upon reaching the very heart of the highest and most difficult mountains.

I shouted to him to stop, and I knew he must have heard me, but for some time he paid no attention. At last he turned around and faced me.

"Why do you go away, colonel?" I asked. "I am no enemy of yours. I am your friend. We have come to rescue you from the wilderness. Your daughter is back there in the hut."

"You are an infernal Yankee spy," he said, "and you are worse than that; you have turned my people against me."

"Colonel," I said, protesting, "don't delude yourself that way any longer. The war is over."

"It is not," he said. "All my men may surrender, but I at least will hold out. Don't I know that they have given up? I saw them in the hut with you and you were not a prisoner. Keep off, I tell you; do not come near me."

I was advancing toward him, not with any intent to harm him, instead the precise reverse, and he, seeing that I would not stop, whipped a pistol out of his belt and fired at me. I suppose his hand was chilled by the cold, for the bullet flew wide of me, chipping splinters from the icy side of a hill. But I stopped, out of regard for my life, expecting another pistol, and he turned and continued his course into the higher mountains. I shouted to him to stop, and I shouted to my comrades in the hut, but the one would not and the others could not hear. He never looked back, and at last disappeared in a thicket, every bush of which in the moonlight looked as if it were cast in silver.

I walked back toward the hut, feeling some chagrin over my failure to keep one of the men for whom we had been looking, after I had found him. I can say with truth that I was not angered at the colonel's bullet, as I thought I understood him. The light of the fire was still shining through the little window, or rather hole in the wall, and threw a long red bar of light across the whitened earth. It was a friendly beacon to any man in a normal state of mind.

All the people in the hut were still sound asleep, the snore of some of the veterans placidly riding the night wind. I took Crothers gently by the shoulders, and succeeded in waking him without waking any of the others. Then I led him out of the hut and told him my story. He agreed with me that it was best not to say anything to Grace of the incident. But he was in a quandary about the wisest course for us to pursue in the morning, as the possible paths now led in several directions.

This quandary was ended for the time by the sound of a rifle-shot. We were so far from expecting anything of the kind that it startled us both very much. My fear, and I believe that of Crothers was the same, was lest the colonel and the doctor had met. We knew that the colonel had taken a rifle with him when he left Fort Defiance, and probably he had put it in some convenient place near by when he came down to spy us out in the hut.

"Take this pistol," said Crothers, shoving one into my hand, "but, remember, Colonel Hetherill must not be harmed."

The people in the hut seemed to be sleeping on calmly, and, leaving them to their rest, we ran as fast as we could in the direction from which the shot had come. Though we had heard the report distinctly, owing to the rarefied mountain air, I judged that the gun had been fired at least a mile away. There were many echoes, and it was somewhat difficult for us to distinguish the true sound from the false, but we agreed upon a general northeast course.

When we had gone half a mile the gun was fired again, the report echoing as gallantly in the still night as if it had been a little cannon instead of an ordinary rifle.

"Up the valley there!" cried Crothers. "Follow that, and it will be sure to take us right."

I disagreed with him, however. The report seemed to me to have been farther to the left, and I insisted upon my opinion.

"All right," said Crothers; "you go that way, and I will go up the gully; one or the other of us will be likely to strike it right."

He ran up the gully, and, obedient to his suggestion, I bent away to the left. But I found myself in a very slippery country, the mountains breaking there into successive little ridges like the waves of the sea, though the general direction was upward. Luckily there was a good growth of bushes, and more than once I kept myself from falling by grasping at the outstretched boughs. When I had nearly reached the spot from which I thought the shot had come, I saw a man standing near a tree. The next instant he saw me and sprang behind the tree. I caught but a glimpse of the slender figure and gray hair, but it was enough for me. I had found the colonel again, and I did not mean for him to try a second shot at me which might be better aimed than the first.

I sprang behind some rocks, where I was adequately sheltered so long as he remained in his present position. I feared that he would try to get a shot at me, thinking I was trying to do him harm, and I shifted my position a little, moving farther on behind the wall of rock. I had no intention of firing at him, for several reasons; and I recognized that it was a very difficult task for me to take an armed man against whom I had no intention of using arms. But I believed that if I could slip upon him unawares I could overpower him with superior force and strength, and disarm him.

Ledges of rock were plentiful there, the mountain being broken into an infinite succession of ridges and ravines. Once I slipped on the sleet and crashed into a thicket which stopped me. But the ice knocked off the boughs fell with a rattle like hail, and I was in a tremor lest the colonel should fire at me from some point of vantage before I could regain my feet. But the shot did not come, and, righting myself, I went on, wishing that my shoes were shod with sharp nails and plenty of them.

The ground seemed favorable for my design. The gully up which I was creeping curved around behind the tree that sheltered Colonel Hetherill, and I believed that with caution I could suddenly throw myself upon him from the rear and overwhelm him. I dropped down on my hands and knees, and, though my progress was slow, I avoided another fall. The colonel gave no sign. I presumed that he was behind the tree, watching for an attack and seeking an opening in his turn.

I rose up a little, trying to peep over the wall of the gully toward the tree, and caught a glimpse of a gray head lifted above the same gully wall, but just around the curve. He dropped back like a flash, and from prudential motives I did the same. The curve of the gully at that point was sharp. In fact, it was more of an angle than a curve, and he was only a yard or two from me. As I hugged the wall, I could hear his heavy, tired breathing. I thought once of turning about and going back, but I concluded that it would never do. The colonel had escaped me once, and I would be ashamed to confess to my comrades that he had escaped me twice. I resumed my continuous creep, stealing forward inch by inch until I came to that point in the curve beyond which I could not pass without coming into his sight. Then I gathered myself for a great effort, sprang to my feet, and darted around the curve, ready to spring upon him and surprise him.

I encountered another large and living body rushing in my direction, and the encounter was so violent that I fell back on the ice and sleet, half stunned.

In a few moments I recovered and sat up.

Dr. Ambrose was sitting on a stone and looking at me, his eyes full of reproach. He pointed to a purple contusion on his forehead.

"You did that," he said.

I felt of a growing lump over my left ear.

"You did that," I said.

He surveyed me, still with reproach.

"I took you for Colonel Hetherill," he said.

I put some reproach into my own gaze.

"I took you for Colonel Hetherill, too," I said.

"I expected to take Colonel Hetherill to the hut," he said, mournfully.

"I expected to do the same," I said, sadly.

"Since I can't take the colonel to the hut," he said, "I will take you."

"Very well, then," I said. "While you are taking me there, I will take you too. Shake hands, doctor. I'm tremendously glad to see you, you old rebel."

We shook hands with the greatest good will. Then he went to the tree and recovered the rifle which was leaning behind it, taken by him in his flight. We started back to the hut, and on the way he gave an account of himself. He had fled from Fort Defiance without any clear object in view except to escape the colonel's wrath, which he believed would be but temporary. When the sleet storm came on he had endured it for a while. At last he reached the hut, built a big fire, warmed himself thoroughly, and then went out to look for the colonel, thinking that the fierceness of the weather would have chilled his rage by this time.

Seeing nothing of him, he had fired his rifle twice, in the hope of attracting his attention, and was returning to the hut, when he caught a glimpse of me and believed by my actions that I was Colonel Hetherill, and moreover that I was Colonel Hetherill still inflamed against him. Then he had hidden behind the tree, hoping just what I had hoped, and trying to do it.

"If it had been the colonel and he had got the first chance and fired at you, what would you have done, doctor?" I asked.

"Colonel Hetherill saved my life twice, once at Stone River, and once at Chickamauga," he replied; and I could get no more direct answer out him.

The doctor looked as if he had been having a hard time; there was no counterfeit about his joy at seeing me. His face was haggard, and scales of ice were on his clothing. I told him about my meeting with the colonel earlier in the evening, and it seemed to take some of the hope out of him.

"The colonel has one idea fixed in his head," he said, "and I do not think anything can drive it out."

I raised my voice and shouted for Crothers, and in a few moments his answering cry came. His meeting with the doctor was, as that of two veterans should be, joyful, but repressed.

We went back to the hut, where we found the army still asleep. But we awoke two of the men, directing them to watch until daylight, while we three lay down upon the floor and went to sleep.

Grace's pleasure when she saw the doctor in the morning sound and well was great, though she said but little. I knew the relief it was to her. But we began at once to organize the search for the last rebel. The hut was to remain a base of operations for the present, and, despite her protests, we insisted that Grace remain there at least that day. I had some hope that the colonel, pressed by cold and hunger, might return to the hut; but the doctor shattered this hope by saying that he might find shelter and food elsewhere in the mountains.

"He was fond of hunting," said the doctor, "and it is more than likely that in such a wilderness he provided one or more little camps besides this for future use."

We divided into two parties. Crothers led one, and the doctor the other. I went with the doctor. I waved my handkerchief as a sign of good cheer to Grace, who stood in the doorway, and we were soon in the mazes of the higher mountains. A good sun came out, and in an hour the weather had turned warm enough to permit snow, but not warm enough to melt the ice and sleet. The clouds soon gathered, obscuring the sun, and for an hour we had a gentle snow which covered the ground a quarter of an inch deep, but did not trouble us, as the morning was without wind. It made our footing much less uncertain, and the doctor drew further encouragement from it, as we might find the colonel's footsteps if he should move about after the snow-fall.

The doctor hoped no more than what proved to be the truth, for as the noon hour approached, one of the men called attention to footsteps in the snow. We believed they could be no other than the colonel's, and we followed the trail, which led along the hill-side over rocks and through scrub. It was difficult to follow, and we might well have credited it to a younger man, had not the doctor assured us that the colonel was a most agile mountaineer.

The trail left the hill-side shortly and entered a fairly level bit of country, which by a stretch of courtesy one might have called a small plateau. Many scrub bushes grew upon it, but we could follow the footsteps, whether they led through the thickets or the open. The doctor confessed that the region was new to him, but from the direct manner in which the trail led on he did not believe it was strange to Colonel Hetherill.

The plateau by and by dipped down into a valley, which in its turn gave way to a lot of knife-edged hills, thick-set with sharp and pointed stones, but after this we had the plateau again, and the trail was there still before us, though it seemed to lead straight toward a white peak, too steep for ascent.

The peak was fringed with woods at the base. As we approached these woods with our heads down, our eyes fixed upon the trail of footsteps in the snow, we were hailed in a loud voice and ordered to stop. We saw a little shack built against the trunk of one of the big trees. It was thatched over with bark; under the pent the muzzle of a rifle was poked out at us in the most alarming way.

All of us had recognized the voice as that of Colonel Hetherill, and we believed the rifle-barrel to be an asset of the same man.

The doctor answered the hail with the loud announcement that we were friends, but the colonel bade us be off at once or he would shoot. Knowing his temper, we shifted our ground with great promptness. But we did not leave. Instead, we took refuge in the woods and undertook to prepare a plan of campaign.

The shack was an exceedingly small affair, but from the roof we saw a piece of old stove-pipe projecting, and we guessed that he was provided against the cold. How he stood in the matter of food and water we could not know. But we decided to treat with him at once, thinking we could appeal to his better reason. The doctor hoisted my white handkerchief on the end of a stick and approached the hut. But the colonel threatened us again with the rifle, and was all the more furious because the bearer of the flag was the doctor, who had assisted in my escape and therefore was the worst traitor in Fort Defiance.