The White Desert

of the spruces and pines of the higher mountains, which in turn gave way before the somber blacks and whites of the main range, where yet the snow lingered from the clutch of wint

ow and cold and ice long after the seasons have denoted a time of warmth

effort to drown the sweeter, softer notes of a robin nesting in the new-green of a quaking aspen. At the hitching post before the one tiny store, an old horse nodded and blinked,-as did the sprawled figure beside the ramshackle motor-filling station, just opened after the snow-bound months of winter. Then five minu

he drowsy gasoline tender rose. A moment more and a long, sleek, yellow racer had come to a stop beside the gas tank, chortled with greater reverberation than ever as the throttle was thrown open, then wheezed into silence with the cutting off of the ignition. A young man rose from his almo

as

gain. "Fill up the tank-and bett

spaces, where cold stone and shifting shale had made jagged marks of bareness in the masses of evergreen, then on to the last gnarled bulwarks of foliage, struggling bravely, almost desperately, to hold on to life where li

journey. The eyes were dark and lustrous with something that closely approached sorrow, the lips had a tightness about them which gave evidence of the pressure of suffering, all forming an expression which s

The villager was in front of the machine, staring

hat kind o' car before. Barry Hou

d the young man agai

fer a minute. You've got th' plate right where th' name o' a car is plaster

he village, that plate must be removed and tossed to the bottom of the nearest stream. His mi

long arou

m-" then h

d. Seein' you've got

rried, wit

't all of Color

thet it's most o' it, th' way th' machines pile t

same

r squinted. "Over Hazard P

e not.

ade it

N

for the first time at

ot? It's Ma

m the tight-drawn reversed cap with the motor goggles resting above the young, smooth forehead, to the quiet elegance o

y you live

dn't

. I know-you don't. Nobody thet lives out here'd try to m

on't

through the valleys created by the lesser peaks. "It may be spring down here, boy, but it's January up there. They's only been two cars over Hazard since November and they come through last week. Both of 'em was old stager

rown crossed the fa

o the other side of the rang

Look up there-jest to the right of Mount Taluche

hat'd

hariot o' your'n in some garage and take the train to-morrow m

ere-if I could make

It's only fourteen m

o other cars ha

knowed every

mpt their conquest; the smooth stretches of pines were alluring things, promising peace and quiet and contentment,-will-o-the-wisps, which spoke only their beauty, and which said nothing of the long stretches of gravelly mire and puddles, resultant from the slowly melting snows. The swirling clouds, the mists, the drifting fogs all appeared to await him, like the gathered hosts of s

e quietly. "I'm-I'm g

ugh to issue a final warning. Then, with a d

u get it out. You're all th' same-I 've seen fellows with flivvers loaded down till th' springs was flat, look up at them hills an' figure t' get over an' back in time for supper. So go on-only jis' remember this: once you get outside of Dominion an' start up th' grade, there ain't no way stations, an' there ain't no telephones, ner diner service, ner someb

exhilaration, a new spirit of desire.

he exhaust of the powerful engine, "But it sh

ing and chortling with the beginning of battle, the machine swept away toward the slight turn tha

re the blues and greens and purples of the foliage and rocks merged in the distance. The grade was yet easy and there was no evidence of strain upon the engine; the tiny rivulets which ran along the slight ruts at ea

ng. More and more labored became the engine. Barry stopped, and lifting the hood, examined the carbureter. With the motor idling, it seemed perfect. Once more he started,-only to stop again and anxiously survey the ignition, test the spark plugs and again inquire into the activities of the carbureter. At last, reassured, he walked to the front of the machine, and with the screwdriver pried the name plate from its position on the radiator and tossed it into the tumbling, yellow stream beside the road. Then he turned back to the machine,-only to stop suddenly and blink with s

s, cut into the higher ones, was lost at the edge of some great beetling rock, only to reappear once more, hundreds of feet overhead. The eyes of Barry Houston grew suddenly serious. He reached into the toolbox, and bringing forth the jack, affixed the chains, forgetting his usually cheery whistle, forgetting even to take notice when an investigative jay sc

" he murmured. "And this is only the be

a shift to second gear that it strengthened again. The grade was growing heavier; once Barry turned his head and stared with the knowledge that far be

way to seemingly bottomless depths beneath. Gradually, the severity of the grade had increased to ten, to twelve and in short pitches to even eighteen and twenty per cent! For a time the machine sang along in second, bucking the raises with almost human persistence, finally, however, to gasp and

stream of melted snow water which churned beneath a sapling bridge. Panting and light-headed from the altitude, Barry leaned against the machine for a moment, then suddenly straig

; farther above, Barry could see that the white was unbroken, save for the half-erased marks of the two cars which had made the journey before him. The motor, like some refreshed animal, roared with a new power and new energy, vibrant, confident, but the spirit was not echoed by the man at the

sunshine flitted about him; one moment his head was bowed against the sweep of a snow flurry, driving straight against him from the higher peaks, the next the brilliance of mountain sunshine radiated about him, cheering him, exhilaratin

abruptness of the curve caused the great, slow-moving vehicle to lose the momentum gained after hundreds of feet of struggle. Again the engine boiled, and Barry stood beside it in shivering gratitude for its warmth. The hills about him were w

hot radiator and, comforted by the warmth, looked about him. The world was his-his to look upon, to dissect, to survey with the all-seeing eyes of tremendous heights, to view in the perspective of the eagle and the hawk, to look down upon from the pinnacles and see, even as a god might see it. Far belo

e; farther the shadows melted into mantles, not of black, but of softest lavender; mound upon mound of color swung before him as he glanced from peak to peak,-the colors that only an artist knows, tintings instead of solid grounds, suggestions rather than actualities. Even the gnarled pines of timber line, where the world of vegetation was sliced off short to give way to t

ined and refilled. Once more, huddled in the driver's seat, Barry Houston gripped the wheel and felt the crunching of the chain-clad wheels in the snow of the roadway. The mountains had lured again, only that they might clutch him in a tighter embrace of

otruding rocks and echoed forth to a constantly growing sound that seemed to travel for miles that it might return with the strength of thunder. Then for a moment the sun came again and he stared toward it with set, anxious eyes. It no longer was dazzling; it was large and yellow and free from glare. He swerved his gaz

ook told plainly that there were four more to go before the summit was reached. Anxiously-with a sudden hope-he watched the instrument, with the thought that perhaps it had broken, but the slow progress of the mile-tenths took away that po

ith a half gasp. "It's

shut off the engine and pulled to one side of the road,-through sheer force of habit. In his heart he knew that there could be no remedy for the clattering remonstrance of the broken rod, that the road was his without question, that it was beyond hope to look for aid up here where all the world was pines and precipices and driven snow, that h