s.

The trust of the boys, in their winter mounts, entitles the latter to a
prominent place in the line of defense. Rowdy, Joel's favorite, was a
veteran cow horse, dark brown in color, and, under the saddle, restless,
with a knowledge of his work that bordered on the human. Dell favored
Dog-toe, a chestnut in color, whose best point was a perfect rein, and
from experience in roping could halt from any gait on the space of a
blanket. The relay horse was named Coyote, a cinnamon-colored mount,
Spanish marked in a black stripe down his back, whose limbs were
triple-ringed above the knees, or where the body color merged with the
black of his legs. Their names had followed them from the trail, one of
which was due to color marks, one to disposition, while that of Dell's
chestnut was easily traceable, from black marks in his hoofs quartering
into toes.

The first storm struck near the middle of December. It was preceded by
an ideal day; like the promise of spring, a balmy south wind swept the
range, while at night a halo encircled the moon.

"It will storm within three days," said Dell, as the boys strolled up to
the corral for a last look at the sleeping cattle. "There are three
stars inside the circle around the moon. That's one of Granny
Metcalf's signs."

"Well, we'll not depend on signs," replied Joel. "These old granny omens
may be all right to hatch chickens by, but not to hold cattle. All
advice on that point seems to rely on corn-fed saddle horses and
little sleep."

The brothers spent the customary hour at the corral. From the bluff bank
which encircled the inclosure, the lads looked down on the contented
herd, their possession and their promise; and the tie of man and his
beast was accented anew in their youthful hearts.

"Mr. Paul was telling me on one of our rides," said Joel, gazing down on
the sleeping herd, "that we know nothing of the human race in an age so
remote that it owned no cattle. He says that when the pyramids of Egypt
were being built, ours was then an ancient occupation. I love to hear
Mr. Paul talk about cattle. Hark!"

The long howl of a wolf to the south was answered by a band to the
westward, and echoed back from the north in a single voice, each
apparently many miles distant. Animal instinct is usually unerring, and
the boys readily recalled the statement of the old trail foreman, that
the howling of wolves was an omen of a forthcoming storm.

"Let it come," said Joel, arising and