He slept, feeling sure that no rider would be on his trail in this kind of weather, for the trail he'd made was wiped out and covered over near as soon as he made it, and as for the horses he'd stole, he knowed they wouldn't be facing this storm and trying to go back; they'd be more for staying in shelter instead and try to find something to eat. Seventeen head of Rocking R saddle stock, counting Smoky, was half a mile or so further down the creek bottom from where the halfbreed was sleeping. They hugged the thick willows for the shelter they'd give, and feed off the small green branches, the rye grass, and everything they could reach which they could chew on. Smoky and Pecos, side by side, rustled on thru the deep snow, sometimes ahead and sometimes behind the other horses, all a nosing around or pawing for whatever little feed could be found, but many cattle had been there ahead of 'em, and when darkness came on they showed near as drawed as they'd been that morning. The snowing had let up some during the day, but as night drawed near the wind got stronger, the snow was drifting, and there'd be another night of travel when no trail would be left to show. The breed woke up, looked around and grinned, then got up and shook himself. The fire was started again, another bait was cooked and consumed, and after all was gathered, he mounted his horse and went to looking for the ponies he'd left to graze down the creek bottom. He run onto 'em a couple of miles further and where he'd figgered they'd be, and as dark settled over the snow covered range, he fell in behind 'em and started 'em on the way. An hour or so of traveling, and then Smoky, who was in the lead, found himself between the wings of a corral, a corral that was made of willows and well hid. The breed had built it for _his purpose_, and signs showed that it'd been used many a time before. Long willow poles made the gate, and after he run the ponies in, and put up the poles, he went after his rope on his saddle. Many a brand had been changed in that corral, and on both horse and cow, other times he'd used it just to change horses, and that's what he wanted just now, a fresh horse. He wasn't changing for the sake of the tired horse he'd been riding, it was just that he didn't want to take chances of having a tired horse under him in case somebody jumped him. His loop was made, and thru the dark he was trying to see just what horse to put his rope on, the white background helped him considerable in making out the shapes of the ponies, and there was one shape he was looking out for before he let his loop sail, the shape of a mouse colored blazed faced horse which he'd noticed and watched all along. Pretty soon, and furthest away from him, he got a glimpse of Smoky's head,--he recognized the white streak on his forehead, and his rope sailed.