"You can go to the station later," replied Joel. "The fur will keep, and we may have quite a spell of winter yet. Don't you remember the old weather proverb, of March coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb? This one came in like a lamb, and we had better keep an eye on it for fear it goes out like a lion. You can go to the railroad in April."
There was wisdom in Joel's random advice. As yet there was no response in the earth to the sun's warmth. The grass was timid and refused to come forth, and only a few foolish crows had reached the shrub and willow along the Beaver, while the absence of other signs of spring carried a warning that the wintry elements might yet arise and roar like a young lion.
The one advantage of the passing days was the general improvement in the herd. The instinct of the cattle led them to the buffalo grass, which grew on the slopes and divides, and with three weeks of fair weather and full freedom the herd as a whole rounded into form, reflecting its tenacity of life and the able handling of its owners.
Within ten days of the close of the month, the weakened lines of intrenchment were again assaulted. The herd was grazing westward, along the first divide south of the Beaver, when a squall struck near the middle of the afternoon. It came without warning, and found the cattle scattered to the limits of loose herding, but under the eyes of two alert horsemen. Their mounts responded to the task, circling the herd on different sides, but before it could be thrown into mobile form and pointed into the Beaver valley, a swirl of soft snow enveloped horses and riders, cattle and landscape. The herd turned its back to the storm, and took up the steady, sullen march of a winter drift. Cut off from the corral by fully five miles, the emergency of the hour must be met, and the brothers rode to dispute the progress of the drifting cattle.
"Where can we turn them?" timidly inquired Dell.
"Unless the range of sand dunes catch us," replied Joel, "nothing short of the brakes of the Prairie Dog will check the cattle. We're out until this storm spends its force."
"Let's beat for the sand hills, then. They lay to our right, and the wolves are gone."
"The storm is from the northwest. If it holds from that quarter, we'll miss the sand dunes by several miles. Then it becomes a question of horseflesh."
"If we miss the sand hills, I'll go back and get a pack horse and overtake you to-morrow. It isn't cold, and Dog-toe can face the storm."
"That's our one hope," admitted Joel. "We've brought these cattle through a hard winter and now we mustn't lose them in a spring squall."