When we were ready, our horses stood all humped up because of the cold. They were in a bad humor, ready to make us pay dear for riding them. As I leaped into the saddle, my horse was off like a flash, running with head down and back arched; he bucked in a series of high leaps, landing stiff-legged on all fours. Blinded by the whirling snow, I shut my eyes and held tight by the grip of my knees. Yellow Bird’s horse followed bucking; but he shouted with delight and struck him with his quirt after every jump.
We found some cattle huddled together in the deep snow, and drove them from the open plains to the river valley, to the shelter of willow thickets. Then, because of the rising storm, we hurried back to the ranch.
Through that long night, I could not sleep because of the cold. The terrible chill in the air pierced to the marrow of my bones. I held my face under the blankets, and hands against my body to keep them from freezing. I lay listening to the wind; and towards morning fell into a restless doze.
When I awoke, a dull gray light was in the room. The roar of the wind sounded distant and far away. I waited, but it grew no lighter. A heavy frost covered the windows, the knob and latch of the door. The cracks in the window near my bed were stuffed with hay to keep out the wind; but the gale drove the fine snow through crevices and made drifts on the floor.
After sunrise the wind went down; and the temperature fell to forty degrees below zero Fahrenheit. But the sky was clear and the sun shone undimmed through the frosty air. Loud reports like rifle shots came from breaking ice in the river. The roof of our cabin cracked as though it would burst.
Outside it was hard to move about, because of the deep snow; but I made my way to a ridge near the pasture. I saw no tracks, no animals, nor birds; not even wolves nor ravens had yet ventured forth. Not a tree could be seen, nor the [[141]]smallest bush, nothing to break the monotony of that dreary wind-swept waste.
Sometimes Yellow Bird and I did not speak for hours at a stretch; we only talked when we felt like it. On those long days of storm he was restless and morose. He loved excitement and hated regular work, and the monotony of ranch life in winter.
Finally the sun rose in a clear sky. The plains were dazzling, the sky a broad expanse of blue. The clouds rolled away from the Rockies, revealing the great range from north to south—a mass of snow and ice. Glaciers on the high peaks glowed and sparkled in the sunlight. The green forests were covered with a blanket of white. Tall pines held masses of snow, which reflected the sun’s rays from myriads of small icicles. The icy covering of the river smoked; and the bare cottonwoods along its shores were covered with white hoar-frost.
Then Yellow Bird said that we had better saddle our horses and drive the cattle back to the ranch; if we did not feed them hay they would die. We found a big herd by their tracks, scattered among thickets of willows. We worked fast in the intense cold, rounding up and heading off. Our horses went at a gallop along the ice-covered trails; but they were agile and sure-footed and did not fall.
We drove the cattle from their hiding places, gathering them together. Then headed them towards the ranch; and, with shouting and firing of guns, drove them bellowing, their rough coats covered with white hoar-frost from the vapor of their steaming hides.