“Oh, this is nothing,” he exclaimed; “in ’63 I wintered on Snake river, and when I unyoked the cattle I had to drive a wedge between the two oxen to get them apart, and at the camp fire I had a long stick holding my coffeepot in the flames to boil, and it turned cold so sudden that I had to let go of the stick and rub my nose, being afraid I was going to freeze it. I ran in the wagon and went to bed without any supper, and when I got up the next morning the smoke stood like the trunk of an old dead tree, and the coffeepot was still in the flames, frozen stiff to the ground; breathing the cold blast that very night it froze all my teeth, and as I was getting up that morning they dropped out of my mouth like corn from a patent corn sheller.”
When he told of freezing his teeth I believed him, for he had not a tooth in his head. I thought I would not say a word to anyone about cold weather again, and I gave my horse the rein.
Arriving near a large white house to the left of the road, I noticed smoke coming from the chimney, as if there was a good fire. Tying my horse to the fence, I went to the door and knocked; a man opened it, and asked me to come in and get warm. He went out to split some wood, and, while rubbing my hands before the red hot stove, I noticed milk pans, churn, etc., and this convinced me that it was a milk ranch. Soon he came in with some dry wood, and his wife came in from the pantry.
“Can I get a glass of milk to drink,” I asked him.
“I don’t know, ask the old woman,” said he.
“Yes,” said she, “of course you can.”
While drinking it, I asked him again:
“Do you think we are going to have another snow storm?”
“Well, I really don’t know. Ask the old woman, she can tell.”
“I think we are going to get one right away,” said she.