their movements
became automatic, instinctive, the result of iron discipline. They
realized the only hope--attainment of the Cimarron bluffs. There was
no shelter there in the open, to either man or horse; the sole choice
left was to struggle on, or lie down and die. The last was likely to
be the end of it, but while a drop of blood ran red and warm in their
veins they would keep their feet and fight.

Carroll's horse stumbled and rolled, catching the numbed trooper under
his weight. The jerk on the lariat flung Wade out of the saddle,
dangling head downward. With stiffened fingers, scarcely comprehending
what they were about, the Sergeant and Wasson came to the rescue,
helped the frightened horse struggle to its feet, and, totally blinded
by the fury of the storm which now beat fairly in their eyes, grasped
the dangling body, swaying back and forth as the startled animal
plunged in terror. It was a corpse they gripped, already stiff with
cold, the eyes wide-open and staring. Carroll, bruised and limping,
came to their help, groaning with pain, and the three men together
managed to lift the dead weight to the horse's back, and to bind it
safely with the turn of a rope. Then, breathless from exhaustion,
crouching behind the animals, bunched helplessly together, the howl of
the wind like the scream of lost souls, the three men looked into each
other's faces.

"I reckon Jim died without ever knowin' it," said the scout, breaking
again the film of ice over his eyes, and thrashing his arms. "I allers
heard tell it was an easy way o' goin'. Looks to me he was better off
than we are just now. Hurt much, Carroll?"

"Crunched my leg mighty bad; can't bear no weight on it. 'T was darn
near froze stiff before; thet 's why I could n't get out o' the way
quick."

"Sure; well, ye 'll have ter ride, then. We 'll take the blanket off
Jim; he won't need it no more. 'Brick' an' I kin hoof it yet
awhile--hey, 'Brick'?"

Hamlin lifted his head from the shelter of his horse's mane.

"I reckon I can make my feet move," he asserted doubtfully, "but they
don't feel as though there was any life left in them." He stamped on
the snow. "How long do these blizzards generally last, Sam?"

"Blow themselves out in about three days."

"Three days? God! We can never live it out here."

His eyes ranged over the dim outline of Wade stretched across the
saddle, powdered with snow, rested an instant upon Carroll who had sunk
ba