Gully realizing that his family was comfortable, his only care was for his horses. These he had provided with as good protection as he had been able to construct after his return from the harvest field, but he knew that the flimsy structure he had erected and on three sides of which he had piled sagebrush as a windbreak, could not long withstand such a storm as was now raging. Upon going to the barn he discovered that the brush had already blown away and he set to work to replace it and to make it more secure by weighting it down with numerous old discarded railroad ties that had been hauled out for fuel. The stinging fine snow and icy blast of the blizzard made his task a most difficult one, and he was repeatedly forced to go to the house to thaw out his frosted fingers and toes.
As evening approached the fury of the gale increased, and huge snowdrifts formed around the little home and completely cut off exit by means of the kitchen door. The front door opened directly facing the blizzard, and at its every opening the two small rooms were filled with the cold wind and drifting snow. The shrieking and howling of the wind warned Gully of the wild night through which he and his family had to pass, and he made ready by providing an abundance of sagebrush for fuel. He fed and blanketed his horses early, and after spreading the straw for their bedding, he left them as comfortable as was possible under the circumstances.
Supper being over and he and his family seated comfortably around the roaring stove enjoying the genial heat that was now filling the rooms, and laughing merrily at the novel experience of being snowbound out in the desert. Incidents of other Christmas nights back in the old home were recounted by both Gully and his wife, to which the children eagerly listened. Laughing and chatting, the evening was spent in this snug little retreat, while outside the storm raged.
One by one the children became sleepy and were tucked away for the night, and the fastening of the front door was made more secure by having a crude bench turned on end and braced against it, and the cracks around its casing, through which the cold wind was driving the snow, was stopped by an old piece of canvas that was fastened at the top with nails and allowed to extend down to the floor. Thus fortified against the elements, Travis and Minnie Gully returned to their places near the fire and sat for a long time in silence, listening to the regular breathing and dreamy mumbling of their sleeping children. For them the storm had no terrors.
The wife placing her hand upon her husband's knee aroused him from his reverie, and she expressed her satisfaction with their changed condition, not that their material wealth had increased, but that she had been taken into his confidence and had become a factor in his life. In the old home she had been content to be the mother of his children, the keeper of his house. But now things were different. She was appealed to in all affairs, her suggestions were asked for the expenditure of the few dollars he had earned, she was consulted as to the plans for the improvement of their home, and she was happy in the thought that her ideas were of value, and were of assistance to him. She was experiencing her awakening, and while it was not as startling nor as sudden as his had been on that first day when he had determined to have a home of his own, it was just as real, and she was spurred on to new hopes and new ambitions, and was happy in their contemplation.
CHAPTER XII.
The wail of the wind grew louder as the night advanced, and the constant peppering of the particles of snow as they were being hurled in never ceasing volleys against the tar paper with which the outer walls of the building were covered could be distinctly heard. The old dog came from his accustomed place beneath the kitchen table, and going behind the stove seated himself amidst the shoes and stockings that had been placed there by the children. After sniffing the air he yawned, curled himself up, tucked his head with a contented sigh, blinked his watery eyes and was soon snoring contentedly.
Scarcely had he dozed off when suddenly he sprang to a sitting position, and pricking up his ears, emitted a vicious growl. Gully, fearing that he would awaken the sleeping children, spoke to him, commanding him to lay down and be quiet. This order he disregarded, and hurriedly went into the kitchen, with hair bristling. Suddenly the startling yap of several coyotes was heard above the din of the wind and pelting snow. A pack of these skulkers, driven from their lairs by hunger and the biting cold, had in their desperation overcome their fear of mankind, and emboldened by numbers, had entered the very dooryard in search of food or shelter.