s to keep themselves busy with the tasks that
their life in the valley entailed upon them. Both knew that this
was best.

The cold was so great that even the wild animals suffered from
it. The timber wolves, despite their terrible lessons, were
driven by it down the valley, and at night a stray one now and
then would howl mournfully near the cabin.

"He's a robber and would like to be a murderer," Albert would
say, "but he probably smells this jerked buffalo meat that I'm
cooking and I'm sorry for him."

But the wolves were careful to keep out of rifle shot.

Dick made one trip up the valley and found about fifty buffaloes
sheltered in a deep ravine and clustering close together for
warmth. They were quite thin, as the grass, although it had been
protected by the snow, was very scanty at that period of the
year. Dick could have obtained a number of good robes, but he
spared them.

"Maybe I won't be so soft-hearted when the spring comes and you
are fatter," he said.

The two, about this time, took stock of their ammunition, which
was the most vital of all things to them. For sometime they had
used both the shot and ball cartridges only in cases of
necessity, and they were relying more and more on traps,
continually devising new kinds, their skill and ingenuity
increasing with practice.

Dick had brought a great store of cartridges from the last train,
especially from the unrifled wagon in the gully, and both boys
were surprised to see how many they had left. They had enough to
last a long time, according to their present mode of life.

"If you are willing, that settles it," said Dick.

"If I am willing for what?" asked Albert.

"Willing to stay over another year. You see, Al, we've wandered
into a happy hunting ground. There are more furs, by the
hundreds, for the taking, and it seems that this is a lost
valley. Nobody else comes here. Besides, you are doing
wonderfully. All that old trouble is gone, and we want it to
stay gone. If we stay here another year, and you continue to eat
the way you do and grow the way you do, you'll be able to take a
buffalo by the horns and wring its neck."

Albert grinned pleasantly at his brother.

"You don't have to beg me to stay," he said. "I like this
valley. It has given me life and what is to be our fortune, our
furs. Why not do all we can while we can? I'm in favor of the
extra year, Dick."

"Then no more need be said about it. The Cliff House is