g back at first, and drifting before the fierce sweep of
the wind, in spite of every effort at guidance. It was an awful
journey, every step torture, but Hamlin bent to it, clinging grimly to
the bit of his animal, his other arm protecting his eyes from the sting
of the wind. Behind, Wasson wielded a quirt, careless whether its lash
struck the horse's flank or Carroll. And across a thousand miles of
snow-covered plain, the storm howled down upon them in redoubled fury,
blinding their eyes, making them stagger helplessly before its blasts.

They were still moving, now like snails, when the pale sickly dawn
came, revealing inch by inch the dread desolation, stretching white and
ghastly in a slowly widening circle. The exhausted, struggling men,
more nearly dead than alive from their ceaseless toil, had to break the
film of ice from their eyes to perceive their surroundings. Even then
they saw nothing but the bare, snow-draped plain, the air full of
swirling flakes. There was nothing to guide them, no mark of
identification; merely lorn barrenness in the midst of which they
wandered, dragging their half-frozen horses. The dead body of Wade had
stiffened into grotesque shape, head and feet dangling, shrouded in
clinging snow, Carroll had fallen forward across his saddle pommel,
too weak to sit erect, but held by the taut blanket, and gripping his
horse's ice-covered mane. Wasson was ahead now, doggedly crunching a
path with his feet, and Hamlin staggered along behind.

Suddenly some awakened instinct in the numbed brain of the scout told
him of a change in their surroundings. He felt rather than saw the
difference. They had crossed the sand belt, and the contour of the
prairie was rising. Then the Cimarron was near! Even as the
conviction took shape, the ghostly outline of a small elevation loomed
through the murk. He stared at it scarce believing, imagining a
delusion, and then sent his cracked voice back in a shout on the wind.

"We 're thar, 'Brick'! My God, lad, here 's the Cimarron!"

He wheeled about, shading his mouth, so as to make the words carry
through the storm.

"Do you hear? We're within a half mile o' the river. Stir Carroll up!
Beat the life inter him! There 's shelter and fire comin'!"

As though startled by some electric shock, Hamlin sprang forward, his
limbs strengthening in response to fresh hope, ploughed through the
snow to Carroll's side, and shook and slapped the fellow into