Winter, long delayed, came at last in earnest.  On the morning of the seventeenth of January—­the ranchers did not soon forget the date—­a warm snow, soft with moisture, drove tumbling in from the east.  All the morning it came, thicker and thicker, until on the level, several inches had fallen; then, so rapidly that one could almost discern the change, the temperature began lowering, the wind shifting from the east to the north, from north to west, and steadily rising.  The surface of the snow froze to ice, the snowflakes turned to sleet, and went bounding and grinding, forming drifts but to disperse again, journeying aimlessly on, cutting viciously at the chance animal who came in their path like a myriad of tiny knives.

All that day the force of the Box R ranch labored in the increasing storm to get the home herds safely behind the shelter of the corral.  It was impossible for cattle long to face such a storm; but with this very emergency in mind, Rankin had always in Winter kept the scattered bunches to the north and west, and under these conditions the feat was accomplished by dusk, and the half-frozen cowboys tumbled into their bunks, to fall asleep almost before they assumed the horizontal.  The other ranchers wondered why it was that Rankin was so prosperous and why his herd seldom diminished in Winter.  Had they been observant, they could have learned one reason that day.

All the following night the storm moaned and raged, and the cold became more and more intense.  It came in through the walls of houses and through bunk coverings, and bit at one like a living thing.  Nothing could stop it, nothing unprotected could withstand it.  In the great corral behind the windbreak, the cattle, all headed east, were jammed together for warmth, a conglomerate mass of brown heads and bodies from which projected a wilderness of horns.

The next morning broke with a clear sky but with the thermometer marking many degrees below zero.  Out of doors, when the sun had arisen, the light was dazzling.  As far as eye could reach not a spot of brown relieved the white.  The layer of frozen snow lay like a vast carpet stretched tight from horizon to horizon.  Although it was only snow, yet so far as the herds of the ranchers were concerned it might have been a protecting armor of steel.  Well did the tired cowboys, stiff from the previous day’s struggle, know what was before them, when at daylight Graham routed them out.  Food the helpless multitude must have.  If they could not find it for themselves it must be found for them; and in stolid disapproval the men ate a hasty breakfast by the light of a kerosene lamp and went forth to the inevitable.

Rankin and Ben and Graham were already astir, and under their supervision the campaign was rapidly begun.  For a few days the stock must be fed on hay, and seven of the available fifteen men of the ranch force were detailed to keep full the great racks in the cattle stockade—­a task in itself, with the myriad hungry mouths swarming on every hand, all but Herculean.  The others, Rankin himself among the number, undertook the greater feat of in a measure opening the range for the future.