The scout and his family were snow-bound at the Agency and could not get back to their ranch. The prairies were impassable with deep drifts; high winds blew day after day from the north. Meanwhile with Yellow Bird I looked after their live stock, and rounded up the cattle and horses which wandered in the storm. Then, another terrible blizzard came in the night. The roar of the wind in the cottonwoods sounded like ocean surf in a heavy storm. When I awoke in the morning, the light in the cabin was strangely dim. With a sense of foreboding I opened the door. A heavy snow was falling, coming straight down. It covered the fences and lay on a level with the cabin windows. The great depth of the snow showed on the roofs of the low-lying sheds and on the rounded banks of the river. A swift current was running, with an ice gorge against the foot log, which backed up the water and covered the meadow with a small lake. First we opened a path to the sheds, and fed hay to the cows and calves. Then we dug a log from the snow and sawed it into blocks for firewood. The air was thick with falling snow and it was growing colder. So we made ready to hunt for cattle on the plains where they were exposed to the full force of the storm. Yellow Bird rode his big roan horse, I a powerful sorrel. I wore a beaver-skin cap with the hood pulled down, a woolen scarf about neck and face, coyote-skin gloves, leather coat and felt boots; only my eyes were exposed. When we were ready, our horses stood all humped up because of the cold. They were in a bad humor, ready to make us pay dear for riding them. As I leaped into the saddle, my horse was off like a flash, running with head down and back arched; he bucked in a series of high leaps, landing stiff-legged on all fours. Blinded by the whirling snow, I shut my eyes and held tight by the grip of my knees. Yellow Bird’s horse followed bucking; but he shouted with delight and struck him with his quirt after every jump. We found some cattle huddled together in the deep snow, and drove them from the open plains to the river valley, to the shelter of willow thickets. Then, because of the rising storm, we hurried back to the ranch. Through that long night, I could not sleep because of the cold. The terrible chill in the air pierced to the marrow of my bones. I held my face under the blankets, and hands against my body to keep them from freezing. I lay listening to the wind; and towards morning fell into a restless doze. When I awoke, a dull gray light was in the room. The roar of the wind sounded distant and far away. I waited, but it grew no lighter. A heavy frost covered the windows, the knob and latch of the door. The cracks in the window near my bed were stuffed with hay to keep out the wind; but the gale drove the fine snow through crevices and made drifts on the floor.