idden without whips,
and with spurs so blunt that they could not hurt even a human skin, and
were ruled by the voice and a slight pressure on the light snaffle
bridle. This is the usual plan, even where, as in Colorado, the horses
are bronchos, and inherit ineradicable vice. I never yet saw a horse
BULLIED into submission in the United States.

October 18.

Snow-bound for three days! I could not write yesterday, it was so
awful. People gave up all occupation, and talked of nothing but the
storm. The hunters all kept by the great fire in the living room, only
going out to bring in logs and clear the snow from the door and
windows. I never spent a more fearful night than two nights ago, alone
in my cabin in the storm, with the roof lifting, the mud cracking and
coming off, and the fine snow hissing through the chinks between the
logs, while splittings and breaking of dead branches, wind wrung and
snow laden, went on incessantly, with screechings, howlings, thunder
and lightning, and many unfamiliar sounds besides. After snowing
fiercely all day, another foot of it fell in the early night, and,
after drifting against my door, blocked me effectually in. About
midnight the mercury fell to zero, and soon after a gale rose, which
lasted for ten hours. My window frame is swelled, and shuts,
apparently, hermetically; and my bed is six feet from it. I had gone
to sleep with six blankets on, and a heavy sheet over my face. Between
two and three I was awoke by the cabin being shifted from underneath by
the wind, and the sheet was frozen to my lips. I put out my hands, and
the bed was thickly covered with fine snow. Getting up to investigate
matters, I found the floor some inches deep in parts in fine snow, and
a gust of fine, needle-like snow stung my face. The bucket of water
was solid ice. I lay in bed freezing till sunrise, when some of the
men came to see if I "was alive," and to dig me out. They brought a
can of hot water, which turned to ice before I could use it. I dressed
standing in snow, and my brushes, boots, and etceteras were covered
with snow. When I ran to the house, not a mountain or anything else
could be seen, and the snow on one side was drifted higher than the
roof. The air, as high as one could see, was one white, stinging smoke
of snowdrift--a terrific sight. In the living room, the snow was
driving through the chinks, and Mrs. Dewy was shoveling it from the
floor. Mr. D.'s beard was h