! This was not the romantic home he had expected to gain
when he left his office on the Strand.

Luckily, his wretched shanty was some six miles nearer than mine or he
would have died. Leaving him safe in his den, I pushed on toward my own
claim, in the teeth of a terrific gale, the cold growing each moment
more intense. "The sunset regions" at that moment did not provoke me to
song.

In order to reach my cabin before darkness fell, I urged my team
desperately, and it was well that I did, for I could scarcely see my
horses during the last mile, and the wind was appalling even to me--an
experienced plainsman. Arriving at the barn I was disheartened to find
the doors heavily banked with snow, but I fell to in desperate haste,
and soon shoveled a passageway.

This warmed me, but in the delay one of my horses became so chilled that
he could scarcely enter his stall. He refused to eat also, and this
troubled me very much. However, I loaded him with blankets and fell to
work rubbing his legs with wisps of hay, to start the circulation, and
did not desist until the old fellow began nibbling his forage.

By this time the wind was blowing seventy miles an hour, and black
darkness was upon the land. With a rush I reached my shanty only to find
that somebody had taken all my coal and nearly all my kindling, save a
few pieces of pine. This was serious, but I kindled a fire with the
blocks, a blaze which was especially grateful by reason of its quick
response.

Hardly was the stove in action, when a rap at the door startled me.
"Come," I shouted. In answer to my call, a young man, a neighbor,
entered, carrying a sack filled with coal. He explained with some
embarrassment, that in his extremity during the preceding blizzard, he
had borrowed from my store, and that (upon seeing my light) he had
hurried to restore the fuel, enough, at any rate, to last out the night.
His heroism appeased my wrath and I watched him setting out on his
return journey with genuine anxiety.

That night is still vivid in my memory. The frail shanty, cowering
close, quivered in the wind like a frightened hare. The powdery snow
appeared to drive directly through the solid boards, and each hour the
mercury slowly sank. Drawing my bed close to the fire, I covered myself
with a buffalo robe and so slept for an hour or two.

When I woke it was still dark and the wind, though terrifying, was
intermittent in its attack. The timbers of the house creaked as th