'Does anyone know George Wilson, of Cochetopa Creek?' asked the Sheriff, appealing to the crowd.
A man stood forward and said, 'I guess I saw the man you want last week, if he's an Englishman. I didn't know his name, for he's only just moved up to a small ranch about fifteen miles from here. I do believe when I met him as he was drivin' a sorrel broncho, the same colour as that one, but I never noticed the brand.'
'Joe! Joe! d'you hear that?' exclaimed Jack, in his joyful surprise forgetting the Sheriff and everyone else. 'We're close to home after all. Isn't it grand?'
The Sheriff looked puzzled at this outburst, until Champion Joe, who was well known to him, came forward and briefly told Jack's story. He also testified to Jack's good character, and finally persuaded the officer to give over the stolen horse into their hands. A proud boy was our hero when, a few hours later, he drove out of Redwood in Joe's buckboard, having Buckskin securely fastened on behind.
The weather had decidedly changed since the day before, and the sky looked dark and lowering as they drove along the prairie road. Jack, however, was in high spirits, for he was drawing close to the end of his long journey, and was thinking he would soon see his dear father and mother.
'We'll make your home by evening if we have good luck,' said Joe cheerfully; 'but I'm feared as we're in for a snowstorm, and maybe a blizzard.'
Joe was right. As they got a little further on their way, the snow began to fall in heavy flakes, and faster and faster they came down. Worse still! Far away up in the mountains above them they could hear a warning roar that proclaimed the advent of a prairie storm. Joe urged Captain on with all his might.
'We're in for a blizzard,' he cried. 'It's coming on quick, and 'll soon overtake us. Cochetopa Creek is only a few miles ahead of us now, and if we could get that far we'd find quaking aspens that would break the worst of the storm, and we could shelter there till morning.'
On they struggled, but the cold was intense, and long before they could reach the creek the blizzard struck them with full force. The snow froze as it fell and cut their faces, while the icy tempest whirled up clouds of these sharp particles, blinding Joe. He made Jack get under the tough buffalo robe, but the fierce cold was penetrating even through that. In a short time Joe found they had wandered off the road, and after driving aimlessly about in the storm, trying to find it again, he had at last to give it up and acknowledge that they were lost. It was an awful sensation, and when they had once pulled up, Captain refused to stir and stood with his back to the storm.
The hunter knew they must all freeze to death if they stayed there any length of time, and he determined to try the only expedient left, which was to abandon the buckboard and trust themselves to the animals. With difficulty he put a bridle on Buckskin, who was trembling with fright and cold, and, hoisting Jack up on his back, managed to tie him on with a bit of rope. He then unharnessed the mule and scrambled on it himself.