In a short time several fires were started under oak trees which had widely-spreading branches or under pines which clustered together.
Don Mariano had a consultation with his mayordomo, and both agreed that it would be best to drive the cattle back for a few miles and wait until the snow had melted sufficiently for them to see the trails, else all might plunge unawares into hidden pitfalls and gulches covered over by snow-drifts.
“Yes, this is our only course,” said Don Mariano, “and now we must start them up. Sleep under snow cannot be any better for cattle than it is for men. Let us have some coffee, and then we must whip up and rouse the cattle; they seem dead already; they are too quiet.”
He was going back to the tree where he had slept, when he was met by his brother Augustin, who came to say that Victoriano wished to see him.
“What? Still in bed?” said he, seeing Victoriano lying down. “This won't do. Up with you, boy.”
“Come here to me, father,” said Victoriano's voice, very sadly. His father was quickly by his side.
“What is the matter, my boy?” asked he.
“Father, I cannot stand up. From my knees down I have lost all feeling, and have no control of my limbs at all.”
“Have you rubbed them to start circulation? They are benumbed with the cold, I suppose.”
“I have been rubbing them, but without any effect, it seems. I don't feel pain though, nor cold either.”