Once more Barry Houston felt his heart sink in the realization of a newer, a greater foreboding than ever.

A frozen crank shaft meant that from now on the gears would be useless.

Fourteen miles of down grade faced him.

If he were to make them, it must be done with the aid of brakes alone.

That was dangerous! He cupped his hands and called,--in the vain hope that the stories of Hazard Pass and its loneliness might not be true, after all.