Petty laughed. He was the finest laugher that Dick had ever
heard. The laugh did not merely come from the mouth, it was also exuded,
pouring out through every pore. It was rolling, unctuous, and so strong
that Petty not only shook with it, but his horse seemed to shake also.
It was mellow, too, with an organ note that comes of a mighty lung and
throat, and of pure air breathed all the year around.
"Thought I'd git the joke on you," he said, when he stopped laughing.
"The road's been slantin' into the mountains, without you knowin' it,
and Townsville is cut off by the cliffs. You'll find it gettin' wilder
now 'till we start down the slope on the other side. Lucky our hosses
are strong, 'cause the mud is deeper than I thought it would be."
It was not really a road that they were following, merely a path,
and the going was painful. Under Petty's instructions they stopped
their mounts now and then for a rest, and a mile further on they began
to feel a rising wind.
"It's the wind that I told you of," said Petty. "It's sucked through
six or seven miles of pass, an' it will blow straight in our faces
all the way. As we'll be goin' up for a long distance you'll find it
growin' colder, too. But you've got to remember that after you pass
them cold winds an' go down the slope you'll strike another warm little
valley, the one in which Hubbard is layin' so neat an' so snug."
Dick had already noticed the increasing coldness and so had the
sergeant.
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