tant feature in withstanding the coming winter siege. An
ideal fall favored the ranch, the dry weather curing the buffalo grass
on the divides, until it was the equal of hay, thus assuring the cattle
of ample grazing until spring. The usual squaw winter passed in a swirl
of snow, a single angry day, to be followed by a month of splendid
Indian summer. Its coming warned the lads; the order for corn was
placed; once a week the cattle were brought in and corralled, and the
ranch was made snug against the wintry months.

The middle of November was as early as the railroad would agree to
deliver the corn. It would take three days to go and come, and an equal
number of round trips would be required to freight the grain from the
railroad to the ranch. The corn had been shelled and sacked at elevator
points, eastward in the State, and in encouraging emigration the
railroad was glad to supply the grain at cost and freightage.

The hauling fell to Joel. He had placed the order, making a deposit, and
identification was necessary with the agent. On the very first trip to
Grinnell, a mere station on the plain, a surprise awaited the earnest
boy. As if he were a citizen of the hamlet, and in his usual quiet way,
Paul Priest greeted Joel on his arrival. The old foreman had secretly
left a horse with the railroad agent at Buffalo, where the trail
crossed, had kept in touch with the delivery of corn at stations
westward, and had timed his affairs so as to meet and pay a final visit
to his protegees.

"A battle is sometimes lost by a very slight oversight or accident,"
said the man to the boy. "The ammunition may get damaged, slippery
ground might prevent the placing of a battery at an opportune moment,
or the casting of a horse's shoe might delay a courier with an important
order. I feel an interest in your little ranch, and when I know that
everything is done that can be done to fortify against the coming
winter, I'll go home feeling better. There is such a thing as killing
the spirit of a soldier, and if I were to let you boys try and fail, it
would affect your courage to face the future. That's the reason I've
dropped off to take a last look at your lines of intrenchment. We've got
to hold those cattle."

"Mr. Quince thinks we won't, but let the winter come as it may, we're
going to hold the herd," simply said the boy.

There was a resolution, an earnestness, in the words of the lad that
pleased the man. "Your Mr. Quince has see