guely heard, regarding "a noose that had settled foul,"
of "a rope that was being gnawed" and a general inability to strangle
a wolf.

Joel saw the situation in an instant. The rope had tightened around the
wolf's chest, leaving its breathing unaffected, while a few effectual
snaps of those terrible teeth would sever any lasso. Shaking out a loop
in his own rope, as Dell circled back over the other trail, Rowdy
carried his rider within easy casting distance, the lasso hissed through
the air, settled true, when two cow-horses threw their weight against
each other, and the wolf's neck was broken as easily as a rotten thread.

"A little of this goes a long way with me," said Joel from the safety of
his saddle.

"Oh, it's fine practice," protested Dell, as he dismounted and kicked
the dead wolf. "Did you notice my throw? If it was an inch, it was
thirty feet!"

In its severity, the winter of 1885-86 stands alone in range cattle
history. It came rather early, but proved to be the pivotal trial in the
lives of Dell and Joel Wells. Six weeks, plus three days, after the
worst blizzard in the history of the range industry, the siege was
lifted and the Beaver valley groaned in her gladness. Sleet cracks ran
for miles, every pool in the creek threw off its icy gorge, and the
plain again smiled within her own limits. Had the brothers been thorough
plainsmen, they could have foretold the coming thaw, as three days
before its harbingers reached them every lurking wolf, not from fear of
poison, but instinctive of open country elsewhere, forsook the Beaver,
not to return the remainder of the winter.

"That's another time you counted the chickens too soon," said Joel to
his brother, when the usual number of baits failed to bring down a wolf.

"Very good," replied Dell. "The way accounts stand, we lost twelve
cattle against one hundred and eighteen pelts taken. I'll play that game
all winter."

CHAPTER XII

A WINTER DRIFT

The month of March was the last intrenchment in the wintry siege. If it
could be weathered, victory would crown the first good fight of the
boys, rewarding their courage in the present struggle and fortifying
against future ones. The brothers had cast their lot with the plains,
the occupation had almost forced itself on them, and having tasted the
spice of battle, they buckled on their armor and rode forth. Without
struggle or contest, the worthy pleasures of life lose their nectar.

The general th