As they were moving slowly down Crooked Trail, the sky suddenly became overcast, and then black.  Great, threatening clouds were massed together far up in the hills, and the wind began to draw down the ravine.  It steadily increased in strength, and in a short time a gale was upon them.  Then followed the rain, which struck them just as they reached the valley.  It was one of those sudden mountain storms, the dread of the most hardened trails-man, and the utter consternation of the chechahco.  Fortunately the wind was in the backs of the travellers, and the trail was smoother now.  Never for a moment did Glen hesitate, and Midnight responded splendidly to the occasion, inspiring with courage the horses following.  The roar of the wind was terrific, and the trees bowed like reeds beneath its onslaught.  Never had Glen experienced such a storm on the trail, and most thankful was she for the riding-cloak which Nannie had placed upon her shoulders.  Her hat had been torn from her head, and her hair was tossed in the wildest confusion about her face and half blinded her.  It was certainly a strange and weird sight as that slight girl led her determined band down that valley right through the heart of the storm.

It was difficult now to see far ahead, and Glen had to trust entirely to Midnight.  Not once did the faithful animal stumble or exhibit the least sign of hesitation.  He seemed to realise that much was at stake, and that everything depended upon his efforts.  With ears pointed straight forward, and with head lowered, as if to guard his steps, he surged onward, every nerve keenly alert, and his entire body quivering with excitement.

For about an hour the storm beat upon them in all its fury, and notwithstanding the riding-cloak, Glen became thoroughly soaked.  But she never once thought of herself, for her mind was ever upon Reynolds.  Would they be in time to help him? she asked herself over and over again.  She wondered what was the nature of the plot Curly had concocted, and whether all the miners were involved.  Any danger to herself never once entered her mind, for she was so sure of the loyalty of her dusky followers.  To reach the man she loved was the one great object which upheld her as she rode through that howling tempest.

At length they came to a place where the draw swerved sharply to the left.  Here the trail left the valley and circled up a small hill behind the mining camp.  The storm, following the draw as if it were a funnel, rushed roaring on its way, while the riders gaining the higher ground were somewhat beyond its reach, and, turning, saw it sweeping below like a torrent in full spate.

With a great sigh of relief, Glen paused for a moment on the summit, viewed the magnificent sight, and waited for her followers as they struggled, one by one, from the grasp of the mighty monster of the mountains.  Then she spoke to Midnight and moved onward.

It was quite dark now, and the opposite slope which they soon began to descend was wrapped in the shadows of the hills.  But Sconda knew every step of the way, and for the first time since leaving Glen West he took the lead and guided the band.  Not a word was spoken as they defiled down that steep, narrow trail, and to anyone watching, they would have appeared like spectres coming from the unseen world.