ith the
two wagons.

Davies and Harris had not been able to resist the lure of "town." The
prosperity that had descended upon them had made them restless, and the
night before they had importuned Lawler to permit them to spend "one
more night in town before holin' up for the winter."

Lawler had consented; and now he was wishing that he hadn't. For when he
emerged from the ranchhouse this morning he saw a dark cloud bank far in
the north, moving southward on the chill wind.

The herd, he knew, was somewhere on the big level beyond the slope of
the valley, in the vicinity of Number One line camp. It was an isolated
section, off the trail that led to town--a section of featureless level
near a big break in the valley. The break opened upon another big level
that stretched southward for a hundred miles. In other days Luke Lawler
had lost many cattle here; they had drifted through the break by
hundreds, with a blizzard behind them; and had been swallowed by the
great waste.

Two years before--aware of the previous losses--Lawler had erected a
wire fence across the big break, extending from a craggy mountain wall
on the western end, to a sheer butte that marked the end of the break,
eastward.

Lawler had sent Red King to the crest of the valley on his way to the
Hamlin cabin, when he noted that the cloud bank in the north had grown
denser, nearer. The wind had increased in velocity, and he had to lean
against it as he rode; and it was so cold and raw that he drew his heavy
cap down over his eyes to shield them, and drew over his mouth the heavy
woolen scarf he wore around his neck.

He rode on a short distance, casting troubled glances into the north. He
found himself wondering if Davies and Harris had gone to the line camp.
If they hadn't, and a storm broke, the herd on the big level was in
danger.

He brought Red King to a halt. The big horse pranced, whistling eagerly.
He champed on the bit, tossed his head, raising it finally and staring
straight into the north.

"You see it too, eh, King?" said Lawler. "Well, we can't take that
chance; we'll have to go to the camp."

He headed Red King down into the valley again, where the bitter wind did
not strike them, riding westward rapidly.

It was noon before Lawler and Red King had traveled half the distance to
the line camp. A dull, gray haze was sweeping southward. It mingled with
the southern light and threw a ghostly glare into the valley, making
distance decep