They were so interested in their talk that they reached the spur of the mountain ranges before they knew it.
The crisp air had got into their blood and into that of their horses, which took the mountain road sharply, and at an eager trot.

They had climbed a good mile along the steep winding road, the snow under their feet frozen as hard as stone, the rocks ice-coated, and the fir trees like great trees of crystal.

Gamechick was so sure-footed that Broussard gave him the reins but Colonel Fortescue watched his horse carefully.
Ahead of them was a sudden turn in the road under the great overhanging cliff, and on it, a magnificent fir tree reared itself, glittering with icicles, in the rose-red light of the sunset.
"Look," said Colonel Fortescue, pointing to the tree.

"Was there ever anything more beautiful ?" As the words left his lips he saw, and Broussard saw, a huge boulder suddenly start down the mountain side and strike like a cannon ball the splendid tree.

There was a fearful breaking and splintering and all at once it was as if the cliff crumbled and trees and boulders and ice and snow came thundering and crashing down into the roadway.