now-fields of the surrounding prairie.

The air was still though keen, and the morning sun had already risen
well above the mist of grey clouds which still hovered above the
eastern horizon. There was a striking solemnity over all. It was the
morning promise of a fair day, and soon the dazzling sunshine upon the
snow would become blinding to eyes unused to the winter prairie.

But Grey was no tenderfoot. Such things had no terrors for him. His
half-closed eyes faced the glare of light defiantly. It is only the
inexperienced who gaze across the snow-bound earth, at such a time,
with wide-open eyes.

The bluffs became scarcer as mile after mile was covered by the long,
raking strides of the hardy horses. Occasionally Grey was forced to
pull off the trail into the deep snow to allow the heavy-laden
hay-rack of some farmer to pass, or a box-sleigh, weighted down with
sacks of grain, toiling on its way to the Ainsley elevator. These
inconveniences were the rule of the road, the lighter always giving
way to the heavier conveyance.

Ten miles from Ainsley and the wide open sea of snow proclaimed the
prairie in its due form. Not a tree in sight, not a rock, not a hill
to break the awful monotony. Just one vast rolling expanse of snow
gleaming beneath the dazzling rays of a now warming sun. A hungry
coyote and his mate prowling in search of food at a distance of
half-a-mile looked large by reason of their isolation. An occasional
covey of prairie chicken, noisily winging their way to a far-distant
bluff, might well be startling both to horses and driver. A dark
ribbon-like flight of ducks or geese, high up in the heavens, speeding
from the south to be early in the field when the sodden prairie should
be open, was something to distract the attention of even the most
pre-occupied. But Grey was oblivious to everything except the trail
beneath him, the gait of his team, and his scheme for advancement. The
sun mounted higher, and the time passed rapidly to the traveller. And,
as the record of mileage rose, the face of the snow-clad earth began
again to change its appearance. The undulations of the prairie assumed
vaster proportions. The waves rose to the size of hills, and the
gentle hollows sank deeper until they declined into gaping valleys.
Here and there trees and small clumps of leafless bush dotted the
view. A house or two, with barn looming largely in the rear, and
spidery fencing, stretching in rectangular directions, sug