The cattle were allowed to rise of their own accord.  In the interim of waiting for the sun to flood the cove, the boys were able to get an outline on the drift of the day previous.  Both agreed that the herd was fully five miles from the corral when the storm struck, and as it dropped into the valley near the improvements (added to their present location), it had drifted fully eight miles in something like five hours.

“Lucky thing for us that it was a local storm,” said Joel, as he hovered over the fire.  “Had it struck out of the north we would be on the Prairie Dog this morning with nothing but snowballs for breakfast.  Relying on signs did us a heap of good.  It was a perfect day, and within thirty minutes we were drifting blindly.  It’s all easy to figure out in advance, but storms don’t come by programme.  The only way to hold cattle on these plains in the winter is to put your trust in corn-fed saddle horses, and do your sleeping in the summer.”

“I wonder when the next storm will strike,” meditated Dell.

“It will come when least expected, or threaten for days and days and never come at all,” replied Joel.  “There’s no use sitting up at night to figure it out.  Rouse out the cattle, and I’ll point them up the divide.”

The sunshine had crept into the bend, arousing the herd, but the cattle preferred its warmth to a frosty breakfast, and stood around in bunches until their joints limbered and urgent appetites sent them forth.  In spite of the cold, the sun lent its aid, baring the divides and wind-swept places of snow; and before noon, the cattle fell to feeding so ravenously that the herdsmen relayed each other, and a dinner for boy and horse was enjoyed at headquarters.  In the valley the snow lay in drifts, but by holding the cattle on divides and southern slopes, they were grazed to contentment and entered their own corral at the customary hour for penning.  Old axes had been left at hand, and the first cutting of ice, to open the water for cattle, occupied the boys for fully an hour, after which they rode home to a well-earned rest.

Three days of zero weather followed.  Sun-dogs, brilliant as rainbows and stately as sentinels, flanked the rising sun each morning, after which the cold gradually abated, and a week after, a general thaw and warm winds swept the drifts out of the valley.  It was a welcome relief; the cattle recovered rapidly, the horses proved their mettle, while the boys came out more than victors.  They were inuring rapidly to their new occupation; every experience was an asset in meeting the next one, while their general fibre was absorbing strength from the wintry trial on the immutable plain.

Only once during the late storm were wolves sighted.  Near the evening of the second day, a band of three made its appearance, keeping in the distance, and following up the herd until it was corraled at the regular hour.  While opening the ice, the boys had turned their horses loose among the cattle, and on leading them out of the corral, the trio of prowlers had crept up within a hundred yards.  With a yell, the boys mounted and made a single dash at them, when the wolves turned, and in their hurried departure fairly threw up a cloud of snow.