"I'm equal to anything the rest of you are. I merely thought it might be rough on the girls, and occasion some alarm to other fond relatives in town, if we failed to get back to-night." "Oh, stop your croaking!" "There will be no trouble getting back." "Of course not, the horses can find the way if we can't." "Here, start something to sing and shut off these ravens!" The crowd sang lustily for the next twenty minutes, then the snow began coming down steadily and the majority of the young people commenced to disappear under the robes and blankets. "The pesky stuff is getting inside my collar!" exclaimed one of the men who had insisted upon keeping his head out. "Why don't you tear yourself from the scenery and come under cover?" asked Mamie pertly. "Yes, Smith, I'm only holding one of Mamie's hands. You may keep the other warm." "He's not either. Don't you believe him, Mr. Smith," Mamie protested. John Hardy spoke to the girl beside him. He had been watching the road ahead too closely for several minutes to do any talking. "Hadn't you better go back with the others--there's no need for you to get wet and cold." "Oh, I am all right--it isn't cold--very." "I am afraid it is going to be--the wind is rising and it's coming right in our faces. We're a pack of fools to go!" "We must be nearly half way there, aren't we?" "I think so--I have never been out to the Morton ranch. Well, if worst comes to worst, I guess they'll keep us all night." The crowd was beginning to quiet down. By the time they had covered two more miles the wind was blowing the snow in their faces with stinging force. John Hardy was having trouble to keep the horses in the road. They, too, recoiled from the snow drifting in their faces. He finally persuaded his companion to go back under the robes. Sherm volunteered to take her place. "I don't like the look of things," said Hardy in a low tone as Sherm climbed up beside him. "Can you tell where we are?" Sherm stared at the snow-covered waste ahead and tried to recognize some familiar land mark in the white gloom. "Yes, I think so. That was Elm Creek you crossed some time back. We must be about half way from Elm to Big John." "How far now?" "Three miles." "Can you see the time?" "Nine-twenty." "The dickens, we ought to be there!" "It oughtn't to be long now. Let me take the reins--your hands must be cold." "Just a minute till I start the circulation. I feel sort of responsible for this gang, because I got up this fool enterprise." Hardy clapped his hands together vigorously. "It wouldn't be bad except for the wind!" Hardy said presently. "That's the worst of Kansas, there always is a wind!" Sherm had not yet been entirely converted to the charms of the sunflower state.