Free Nightmare Mountain by Peg Kehret Page B

she saw an odd flat piece of rock. It seemed somehow familiar. She looked again and realized it was the top of Arrowhead Boulder. Instead of towering above her, it was now at her feet. She walked to the rock and stood on it.
    She looked behind her, her eyes darting quickly across the surface of the snow. Where was Glendon?
    Maybe one of his hands or his head was visible above the surface, if only she knew where to look.
    She saw nothing. She looked down the hillside, wondering anxiously whether she should stay and search for Glendon or try to go for help.
    Far below, she could see the ranch. Apparently, only the edge of the avalanche had hit them. It stopped short of the lower pasture. She could see the fence, the barn, the lane—everything just as it was before.
    I must hurry, Molly thought. I have to find Glendon; I must get him out quickly. Even if he has a pocket of air, like I had, it won’t last forever.
    The vast white expanse of snow stretched behind her as far as she could see. How could she hope to find him?
    Quickly, she looked again in all directions. She saw the cables that were connected to the four corners of the lift. Its location, behind a giant boulder, had partially sheltered it from the brunt of the avalanche.
    The lift. She could take the lift down to the ranch and call for help.
    The last thing she wanted to do was ride that lift again, especially alone, but she knew she had to do it. It was the fastest, surest way to get down. She couldn’t find Glendon by herself and it would take much too long to hike back down off the mountain. She wasn’t sure she could make it, anyway. Her feet, she was sure, were frozen. They felt like solid clumps of cement attached to the ends of her legs.
    She rushed to the cables and, using her arm as a broom, brushed the snow off the lift bed. Then she slid her hands down the cable until she felt the control box.She didn’t know if it would still work or not but she pushed the switch, the way the man had done, and the lift lurched upward out of the snow.
    Molly teetered momentarily, unable to get her balance. For one dreadful second, she thought she was going to fall off the side of the lift, back into the snow. Instead, she sat down, hard, feeling the jolt all the way up her spine.
    She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and waited tensely for the bump that meant they’d reached the bottom.
    As she rode, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Maybe she should have stayed and searched for Glendon alone.
    If Uncle Phil was home, it would be OK; he would know what to do. He would help her find Glendon. But if he wasn’t home yet, Molly would have to call into town for help and she knew how long it took to get out to the ranch from town. Too much time would go by, she thought. Help would come but it would be too late to save Glendon.
    When the lift reached the bottom, Molly scrambled off and ran for the house. Twice she stumbled and fell, then got up again and continued. All she could think of was Glendon, still up there on the mountain, buried in a snowdrift.
    He might not be her favorite person but she couldn’t let him die. Poor Uncle Phil! First Aunt Karen and now Glendon. She couldn’t let it happen. She just couldn’t!
    Molly burst into the kitchen. “Uncle Phil!” she cried. “Uncle Phil, are you here?”
    The only one there to greet her was Buckie, wagging his tail wildly and giving short, sharp barks of joy.
    Molly didn’t even stop to pet him. She ran straight for the kitchen telephone and grabbed the card with the sheriff’s telephone number on it.
    She dialed the number. The line was busy. Buckie came back to the kitchen, carrying Fifi in his mouth.
    “Not now,” Molly said. She ran to the coat closet, and put on a down jacket and a pair of mittens. Neither fit, but she didn’t care. They were warm. She knew she couldn’t go back up the mountain again without warmer clothes. She found a knit cap, too, and jammed it on her head. She wrapped