This thought had hardly occurred to him when he was saved further pondering by the sight of Topsy coming flying back along the ledge. Her nostrils were distended in a frightened way and her coat was flecked with foam. For a flash he saw her as she turned a shoulder of rock, and then she vanished again as the trail turned inward toward the cliff face. Ralph had only a second in which to act.

He glanced about him. It appeared impossible that two ponies could pass on the narrow trail. Yet he would have to let Topsy get by or else be backed off into the depths below. In emergencies such as the boy now faced, the mind usually rises to the occasion and works with the rapidity necessary[255] to dictate quick action. It was so in Ralph’s case.

He swung his pony in toward the cliff face, clinging to it closely, as the only possible salvation. In a flash Topsy came swinging around the turn, going at full gallop. Ralph held his breath as he felt her sides graze his right knee! But she galloped safely by with hardly a fraction of an inch to spare between her hoofs and the edge of the trail!

To his huge joy and relief the emergency was passed, and without accident. In another minute he had swung his pony around, its small, nimble legs bunched together to make the turn, and was off down the trail after the runaway. Almost at the bottom several riders were advancing toward the boy. The recreant Topsy was between him and the newcomers, whom Ralph recognized as his camp mates. Mountain Jim was at their head and they had set out in search of Ralph a short time before.

[256]

Topsy, thus hemmed in, allowed herself to be captured without making much resistance, and a much chastened pony was led back into camp, where the professor was awaiting the return of the party.

“Lucky thing that she turned,” was Ralph’s comment, “for I don’t think that ledge went much further up the mountain side.”

“Reckon it didn’t,” was Jim’s reply, “and if you had found a spot where it was much narrower, you’d have been in an ugly fix.”

“Not a doubt of it,” commented Ralph as he thought of his feelings when he was uncertain whether Topsy would be able to pass him or not.

As to what had turned the runaway pony in such a fortunate manner, opinions were divided. Mountain Jim inclined to the belief that the trail had come to an end and that the pony had had sense enough to turn. Ralph, with the recollection of the animal’s terror fresh in his mind, was[257] positive that some wild beast had scared the recreant Topsy and caused her to dash back.

The discussion over the exciting incident had hardly ceased, when hoof beats were heard coming along the trail by which they had arrived at their camping place. All looked up with interest, for travelers were few in that wild part of the Rockies. Their curiosity was not long in being gratified.

Through the trees came riding a stalwart figure on a big bay horse. The newcomer was clean shaven, bronzed and capable looking. He wore a big sombrero, riding boots, and trousers with a stripe down the sides. His appearance, for he carried a carbine in a holster and pistols in his belt, was somewhat alarming to the boys, who exchanged hurried whispers. But Mountain Jim soon quieted their fears.

“It’s a trooper of the Northwest Mounted Police,” he exclaimed, and then, as the rider drew nearer, he cried out in a glad voice:

[258]

“Great Blue Bells of Scotland, if it ain’t Harry Carthew!”

“By Jove! Jim Bothwell!” cried the new arrival in a gratified tone. “Upon my word, I’m glad to see you. But what brings you here?”

As he spoke, he gazed with some curiosity about the camp and at the youthful faces of the young adventurers.

“Sort of piloting these lads and Professor Wintergreen through the Rockies, Harry,” was the rejoinder. “Where are you mushing along to?”

“I’m bound for Muskeg Lake,” was the response, “just coming through from Fort Grainger.”

“Won’t you rest here a while?” asked the professor.

“Don’t mind if I do,” said the big trooper. “The goin’s been rough and both I and Dandy here”—he patted his horse—“are a bit fagged, don’t you know.”

[259]

“Sit down and have a bite to eat,” said Jim hospitably. “I guess Dandy can shift for himself all right.”

The trooper unsaddled his mount and was soon seated in the shade of a big tree, his back against its trunk, while he dispatched with gusto the food Jim placed before him. When he had finished, he and Jim lit their pipes and began to talk, while the boys and the professor listened interestedly. The man was a new type to them. Self-reliant, big-limbed, clear-eyed, and active as a cat in all his movements, he appeared a fit person for the hard and often dangerous work of the famous Northwest Mounted.

He and Jim, it seemed, were old friends, the veteran guide having aided him in the years past to corner and make prisoners of a band of cattle rustlers. Jim told him about their experiences at the outlaw ranch and the trooper promised to report the matter to his superior officers at once.

“That red-bearded fellow is a character we’ve[260] been after for a long time,” he said, “and thanks to you, I guess we’ll be able to round him up at last. Nevins of Ours almost had him once years ago, but he slipped through his fingers.”

“What became of Nevins?” asked Jim interestedly. “That man always made me wonder what a chap like him wanted to join the Northwest for.”

Trooper Carthew drew thoughtfully on his pipe. Then after a minute he looked up and spoke softly.

“Nevins has gone on a trail he won’t come back from, Jim.”

“Dead?”

The other nodded.

“How’d it happen?”

“What kills a lot of unseasoned men in the service: snow madness!” was the rejoinder. “It’s a thing I don’t often talk about, but if any of your young men here,” he nodded toward the boys, “think that life in the Northwest Mounted[261] is any cinch it might be a good thing to tell ’em the yarn.”

“We wish you would,” said Ralph, scenting a story out of the ordinary.

“Well, it happe............