with a fog.

"What is that?" he asked.

"A dust-storm. Can you make your horse go faster?"

"Not and keep the wind in him."

"Never mind, we shall do very well."

They had come about the brow of the mountain now, and could see the
great black cloud to the north. It looked pretty ugly, even to Stephen
Burns's unaccustomed eyes.

"What do you expect?" he asked, as they walked their horses down a sharp
descent.

"It may be only wind, but there is likely to be snow at this season. If
we can only get out of the ranch we're all right; the prairie-dog holes
make it bad when you can't see."

"Can't see?" he repeated.

"Yes," she answered impatiently. "Of course you can't see _in a
blizzard_!"

A moment later a blinding cloud of sand struck them with such force that
both the horses slewed sharp about and stood an instant, trembling with
the shock. As they turned to the north again, a few flakes of snow came
flying almost horizontally in their faces and then--the storm came!

Horses and riders bent their heads to the blast, and on they went. It
had suddenly grown bitterly cold.

"I wish you would take my coat," said Stephen, fumbling at the buttons
as he had fumbled at the bridle. His teeth were chattering as he spoke.

"Nonsense!" Amy answered sharply. "You'll feel this ten times as much as
I."

The snow was collecting in Stephen's beard, freezing as it fell, and
making fantastic shapes there; the top of Amy's hat was a white cone,
stiff and sharp as if it were carved in stone.

They could not see a rod before them, but they found it easier to
breathe now.

"Isn't it splendid, the way one rouses to it!" Amy exclaimed. "I'm
getting all heated up from the effort of breathing!"

There was no answer.

"Don't you like it?" she asked, taking a look at his set face.

"Like it? With you out in it!"

That was all he said, but Amy felt her cheeks tingle under the dash of
snow that clung to them. The answer came like a rude check to the
exultant thrill which had prompted her words.

"He doesn't understand in the least!" she thought, impatiently, and it
was all she could do to refrain from spurring on her horse and leaving
him in the lurch as she had done once before, that day. He was
faint-hearted, pusillanimous! What if it were only for her sake that he
feared? All the worse for him! She did not want his solicitude; it was
an offence to her!

The wind whistled past them, and the snow beat in their faces; the