All the records of the work of yesterday had been burned. There was nothing to do but begin at the beginning again. It was discouraging, uninteresting. But it had to be done. Dale refused positively to adjourn. The jurymen were all here. So the little frame church was bargained for. If the fire-bugs had thought to postpone events—to gain time—by last night’s work, they would find themselves very greatly mistaken. The church was long and narrow like a country schoolhouse, and rather roomy considering the size of the town. It had precise windows—also like a country schoolhouse,—four on the west side, through which the fine snow was drifting, four opposite. The storm kept few at home with the exception of the people from across the river. There were enough staying in the town to fill the room to its utmost limits. Standing room was at a premium. The entry was crowded. Men not able to get in ploughed back through the cutting wind and snow only to return presently to see if the situation had changed any during their brief absence. So all the work of yesterday was gone over again. Mingled with the howl and bluster of the wind, and the swirl and swish of the snow drifting outside during the small hours of last night, sometimes had been distinguishable the solemn sound of heavy steps running—likened somewhat to the tramp of troops marching on the double-quick. To some to whom this sound was borne its meaning was clear, but others wondered, until daylight made it clear to all. The sorry day predicted for the cattle had come. The town was full of cattle. They hugged the south side of the buildings—standing in stolid patience with drooping heads. Never a structure in the whole town—house or store or barn or saloon—but was wind-break for some forlorn bunch huddled together, their faces always turned to the southeast, for the wind went that way. It was an odd sight. It was also a pitiful one. Hundreds had run with the wind from the higher range altitude, seeking the protection of the bluffs. The river only stopped the blind, onward impetus. The flat where the camps had been might have been a close corral, so thickly were the animals crowded together, their faces turned uncompromisingly with the wind.