traint became necessary to avoid galloping home. The snow
crunched underfoot, the mounts snorted their protest at hindrance,
vagrant breezes and biting cold cut the riders to the marrow, but on
approaching the homestead the reins were shaken out and the horses
dashed up to the stable door.

"There's the morning star," observed Joel, as he dismounted.

"If we're going to be cowmen," remarked Dell, glancing at the star as he
swung out of the saddle, "hereafter we'll eat our Christmas supper
in October."

CHAPTER X

GOOD FIGHTING

Dawn found the boys in the saddle. A two hours' respite had freshened
horses and riders. The morning was crimpy cold, but the horses warmed to
the work, and covered the two miles to the bend before the sun even
streaked the east. Joel rode a wide circle around the entrance to the
cove, in search of cattle tracks in the snow, and on finding that none
had offered to leave their shelter, joined his brother at the rekindled
fire under the cliff. The cattle were resting contentedly, the fluffy
snow underneath having melted from the warmth of their bodies, while the
diversity of colors in the herd were blended into one in harmony with
the surrounding scene. The cattle had bedded down rather compactly, and
their breathing during the night had frosted one another like window
glass in a humid atmosphere. It was a freak of the frost, sheening the
furry coats with a silver nap, but otherwise inflicting no harm.

The cattle were allowed to rise of their own accord. In the interim of
waiting for the sun to flood the cove, the boys were able to get an
outline on the drift of the day previous. Both agreed that the herd was
fully five miles from the corral when the storm struck, and as it
dropped into the valley near the improvements (added to their present
location), it had drifted fully eight miles in something like
five hours.

"Lucky thing for us that it was a local storm," said Joel, as he hovered
over the fire. "Had it struck out of the north we would be on the
Prairie Dog this morning with nothing but snowballs for breakfast.
Relying on signs did us a heap of good. It was a perfect day, and within
thirty minutes we were drifting blindly. It's all easy to figure out in
advance, but storms don't come by programme. The only way to hold cattle
on these plains in the winter is to put your trust in corn-fed saddle
horses, and do your sleeping in the summer."

"I wonder when the next storm will