the stars came out.

The next day Margaret's brother took up a sack of coal on his bronco, so
we made our way back over the trail we had broken the night before, to
the store, and he built a fire for us. Later that same morning Chris
rode over with a sack of coal tied on behind the saddle.

"Yoost in case you should run out once," he said as he brought it in.
"My wife she bane uneasy when she see no light last night."

When we told him what had happened he shook his head in concern and went
to work. He scooped a path to the barn and attended to the horses. From
under the snow he got some fence posts which he chopped up while Charlie
excavated an opening to the front door--in case anyone should be mad
enough to try to reach the store on a day like that.

About noon a cowboy came fighting his way through the drifts in search
of lost cattle which the storm must have driven in this direction--the
only soul who dared to cross the plains that day.

It was Sourdough. I never knew his real name. I doubt if those with or
for whom he worked knew.

He stopped at the print shop to rest his horse, which was wringing wet
with sweat, though the day was piercing cold. He threw the saddle
blanket over the horse and came in.

We begged him to go and find out whether or not the Wagors were all
right. After Ida Mary and I had got straightened out, it occurred to us
that they had sent in their order for coal with ours. Like us they might
be imprisoned in their shack and low on fuel; but, unlike us, there
would be no question of their battling their way across the prairie to
shelter.

"Sufferin' sinners," grumbled Sourdough. "Think I got time to fool
around with homesteaders when a bunch of critters is maybe dead or
starvin' to death? Godamighty!"

We argued and insisted, telling him that he knew better how to break a
trail than the tenderfeet around here, that his horse was better trained
for it.

"This country warn't made for no humans--just Indians and rattlesnakes
and cowhands is all it was intended for."

I agreed with him. I was ready to agree with anything he might say if he
would only go to the Wagors' shack. At last, after we had exhausted all
the wiles and arts of persuasion at our command, Ida Mary told him that,
come to think of it, she had seen a bunch of cattle drifting in the
direction of the Wagor claim. He started out, saying he might stop in
if he happened to drift by and it "come handy."

Sourdough found the