To Hale's returning senses they did not seem in a condition to engage a single resolute man, who might have ambushed in the woods or beaten them in detail in the narrow gorge, but in another instant the reason of their furious haste was manifest.

Spurring his horse ahead, Clinch dashed out into the open with a cheering shout--a shout that as quickly changed to a yell of imprecation.

They were on the Ridge in a blinding snow-storm! The road had already vanished under their feet, and with it the fresh trail they had so closely followed! They stood helplessly on the shore of a trackless white sea, blank and spotless of any trace or sign of the fugitives.
"'Pears to me, boys," said the ostler, suddenly ranging before them, "ef you're not kalkilatin' on gittin' another party to dig ye out, ye'd better be huntin' fodder and cover instead of road agents.

'Skuse me, gentlemen, but I'm responsible for the hosses, and this ain't no time for circus-ridin'.

We're a matter o' six miles from the station in a bee line." "Back to the trail, then," said Clinch, wheeling his horse towards the road they had just quitted.
"'Skuse me, Kernel," said the ostler, laying his hand on Clinch's rein, "but that way only brings us back the road we kem--the stage road--three miles further from home.