“She’s stocked!” laughed Singleton; “Tulerosa an’ Denver brought word.  An’ the herd was on the big level north of the camp.  They’ll head straight for that break because they’ll hit it before they hit the basin.  An’ Givens an’ Link will send ’em through, to hell—­an’ then some.  An’ them damn fools, Davies an’ Harris, is layin’ in the back room of the Wolf, paralyzed by that forty-rod that Big Jim Lafflin has been slippin’ over the bar to ’em.  They won’t know they’re alive until this time tomorrow, an’ then they’ll be so scared that they’ll just keep right on hittin’ the forty-rod for fair!  I reckon we’ve got Lawler goin’, now, the damn maverick!”

Warden and Singleton rode fast, but the storm caught them.  Midway on the ten-mile stretch of plain between Willets and the Two Diamond they turned their backs to the white smother and sent their horses racing headlong away from the storm.

“She’s a humdinger!” yelled Singleton to Warden as the wind shrieked and howled about them.  “If Givens an’ Link git them cattle started they’ll drift clear into Mexico.  Three thousand!  I reckon that’ll set the damn fool back some!”

The two men had only five miles to ride when the storm struck, and Singleton was experienced.  And yet when they rode into the Two Diamond stable and dismounted, both men were breathless and tired; their legs and arms stiff with cold and their faces raw and blue from the bitter wind that had swirled around them.

“Another five miles of that an’ we wouldn’t be as active as we are now!” said Singleton, grimly.  “She’s got a worse bite than any wind I ever seen!”

Warden’s hands were so cold he could not remove the saddle from his horse.  A Two Diamond man performed that service for him, and for Singleton.  While Warden and Singleton were stamping their feet in an effort to restore circulation, the Two Diamond man called to them from the far end of the stable: 

“You run into Miss Della?”

Warden wheeled toward the man.  “What do you mean, Lefty?  What about Miss Della?  Isn’t she at the ranchhouse?”

“She rode away about three hours ago—­on that big roan of hers.  Went to town, most likely.  She didn’t say.  I reckoned that if she had gone to town, you’d have run into her.”

Warden ran stiffly to the ranchhouse, where he came upon Aunt Hannah in the kitchen.

“Where’s Della?” he demanded, excitedly.

The woman looked at Warden in mild surprise.

“Why, didn’t she come with you, Mr. Warden?  She told me she intended to.”  And then her face blanched at the wild excitement Warden betrayed.

“She isn’t with you—­you didn’t meet her?  Oh, she’ll be frozen to death in this terrible storm!”

“Damn you!” cursed Warden, gripping the woman’s arm until she cried out in pain; “didn’t I tell you not to let her go alone—­anywhere?”

He released the woman and plunged out, running blindly back to the stable.  He collided with Singleton at the stable door.  His face was ghastly, his eyes bulging.