midday when they ventured out to feed. A very
weak animal they would bring into the cow-shed and feed with hay; but
they did this only in cases of the direst necessity, as such an animal
had then to be fed for the rest of the winter, and the quantity of
hay was limited. As long as the cattle could be held within the narrow
strip of Bad Lands, they were safe enough, for the deep ravines
afforded them ample refuge from the icy gales. But if by any accident
a herd was caught by a blizzard on the open prairie, it might drift
before it a hundred miles.

Soon after Roosevelt's return from the East, he had sent Sylvane
Ferris to Spearfish to purchase some horses for the ranch. About the
first week in December his genial foreman returned, bringing fifty-two
head. They were wild, unbroken "cayuses," and had to be broken then
and there. Day after day, in the icy cold, Roosevelt labored with the
men in the corral over the refractory animals making up in patience
what he lacked in physical address.

Bill Sewall, who with Dow was on hand to drive a number of the ponies
north to Elkhorn Ranch, did not feel under the same compulsion as "the
boss" to risk his neck in the subjugation of the frantic animals. Will
Dow had become an excellent horseman, but Sewall had come to the
conclusion that you could not teach an old dog new tricks, and refused
to be bulldozed into attempting what he knew he could not accomplish.
There was something impressive in the firmness with which he refused
to allow the cowboys to make him look foolish.

The night the horses arrived, Sewall overheard a number of the cowboys
remark that they would get the men from Maine "on those wild horses
and have some fun with them." "I was forewarned," said Sewall, years
after, telling about it, "and so I was forearmed."

One of the men came up to Sewall, and with malice aforethought led the
subject to Sewall's participation in the breaking of the horses.

"I am not going to ride any of those horses," said Sewall.

"You will have to," said the cowboy.

"I don't know so much about that."

"If you don't," remarked the cowboy, "you will have the contempt of
everybody."

"That won't affect me very much," Sewall answered quietly. "If I were
younger, it might, but it won't now."

"Oh, well," said the other lightly, "you will have to ride them."

"No," remarked Sewall, "I didn't come out here to make a fool of
myself trying to do what I know I can't do. I don't want to