"Not and keep the wind in him."
"Never mind, we shall do very well."
They had come about the brow of the mountain now, and could see the great black cloud to the north. It looked pretty ugly, even to Stephen Burns's unaccustomed eyes.
"What do you expect?" he asked, as they walked their horses down a sharp descent.
"It may be only wind, but there is likely to be snow at this season. If we can only get out of the ranch we're all right; the prairie-dog holes make it bad when you can't see."
"Can't see?" he repeated.
"Yes," she answered impatiently. "Of course you can't see in a blizzard!"
A moment later a blinding cloud of sand struck them with such force that both the horses slewed sharp about and stood an instant, trembling with the shock. As they turned to the north again, a few flakes of snow came flying almost horizontally in their faces and then—the storm came!
Horses and riders bent their heads to the blast, and on they went. It had suddenly grown bitterly cold.
"I wish you would take my coat," said Stephen, fumbling at the buttons as he had fumbled at the bridle. His teeth were chattering as he spoke.