After sunrise the wind went down; and the temperature fell to forty degrees below zero Fahrenheit. But the sky was clear and the sun shone undimmed through the frosty air. Loud reports like rifle shots came from breaking ice in the river. The roof of our cabin cracked as though it would burst. Outside it was hard to move about, because of the deep snow; but I made my way to a ridge near the pasture. I saw no tracks, no animals, nor birds; not even wolves nor ravens had yet ventured forth. Not a tree could be seen, nor the smallest bush, nothing to break the monotony of that dreary wind-swept waste. Sometimes Yellow Bird and I did not speak for hours at a stretch; we only talked when we felt like it. On those long days of storm he was restless and morose. He loved excitement and hated regular work, and the monotony of ranch life in winter. Finally the sun rose in a clear sky. The plains were dazzling, the sky a broad expanse of blue. The clouds rolled away from the Rockies, revealing the great range from north to south—a mass of snow and ice. Glaciers on the high peaks glowed and sparkled in the sunlight. The green forests were covered with a blanket of white. Tall pines held masses of snow, which reflected the sun’s rays from myriads of small icicles. The icy covering of the river smoked; and the bare cottonwoods along its shores were covered with white hoar-frost. Then Yellow Bird said that we had better saddle our horses and drive the cattle back to the ranch; if we did not feed them hay they would die. We found a big herd by their tracks, scattered among thickets of willows. We worked fast in the intense cold, rounding up and heading off. Our horses went at a gallop along the ice-covered trails; but they were agile and sure-footed and did not fall. We drove the cattle from their hiding places, gathering them together. Then headed them towards the ranch; and, with shouting and firing of guns, drove them bellowing, their rough coats covered with white hoar-frost from the vapor of their steaming hides. At the ford of the river a swift current overflowed the ice. The steers in the lead balked; they stood and smelled the ice. The cattle in the rear crowded forward. They ran along the shore, bellowing and with clouds of steam rising from their nostrils. A big steer led the way and the others followed. They broke through the ice and struggled in a mass. Some were carried down-stream by the swift current and lodged against an ice-jam; but all got safely across. Then came an accident to Yellow Bird. At our cabin he jumped from his horse and landed on the sharp edge of an axe unturned in the snow. To stop his foot from bleeding, I used a compress made tight with a stick; I dressed it with an antiseptic and bandaged the wound. Yellow Bird was now helpless and took to his bed.