ension of all this stung like the lash
of a whip, transformed him again into a fighter, a soldier of the sort
who refuses to acknowledge defeat. His eyes darkened, his lips pressed
together in a straight line.

Carroll lay helpless, inert, his head hanging down against the neck of
his horse. The Sergeant jerked him erect, roughly beating him into
consciousness; nor did he desist until the fellow's eyes opened in a
dull stare.

"I 'll pound the life out of you unless you brace up, George," he
muttered. "That 's right--get mad if you want to. It will do you
good. Wait until I get that quirt; that will set your blood moving.
No! Wake up! Die, nothing! See here, man, there 's the river just
ahead."

He picked up his glove, undid the reins from Wasson's stiffened
fingers, and urged the horses forward. Carroll lurched drunkenly in
the saddle, yet retained sufficient life to cling to the pommel, and
thus the outfit plunged blindly forward into the storm, leaving the
dead men where they lay. There was nothing else to do; Hamlin's heart
choked him as he ploughed his way past, but he had no strength to lift
those heavy bodies. Every ounce of power must be conserved for the
preservation of life. Little as he could see through the snow blasts
there was but one means of passage, that along the narrow rift between
the ridges. The snow lay deep here, but they floundered ahead, barely
able to surmount the drifts, until suddenly they emerged upon an open
space, sheltered somewhat by the low hills and swept clean by the wind.
Directly beneath, down a wide cleft in the bank, dimly visible,
appeared the welcome waters of the Cimarron. The stream was but partly
frozen over, the dark current flowing in odd contrast between the banks
of ice and snow.

The Sergeant halted, examining his surroundings cautiously, expecting
every instant to be fired upon by some unseen foe. The violence of the
storm prevented his seeing beyond a few yards, and the whirling snow
crystals blinded him as he faced the fury of the wind sweeping down the
valley. Nothing met his gaze; no sound reached his ears; about him was
desolation, unbroken whiteness. Apparently they were alone in all that
intense dreariness of snow. The solemn loneliness of it--the dark,
silently flowing river, the dun sky, the wide, white expanse of plain,
the mad violence of the storm beating against him--brought to him a
feeling of helplessness. He was a mere atom, strug