In the field, which covered perhaps forty acres, he saw the possibility of finding a little feed for the sheep until the snow should settle enough to allow them to travel and, if the stack really was hay or any rough feed, his troubles were over for the present at least. As the lad turned back to camp he realized only too well the difficulty of moving the herd until the snow settled, it being fully eighteen inches deep on the level, and everywhere there were drifts many feet high through which the sheep in their weakened condition could not make their way. But it was less than half a mile at the most from the camp to the shack, and he was sure he could work the sheep to the field where there would be some pickings that would keep them from starving. As he suspected, he found the place deserted, and the stack proved to be fodder of some description surrounded by a strong fence. The shed, which had a small door hanging on one hinge and about half open, was as dark as a cellar and, as he stepped inside, the nose of his lost horse was fairly pushed into his face, and but for his infirmity he could have heard the most gladsome nickering and whinnying to which a lone hungry horse ever gave tongue. A few threads of canvas on the door post told the story of the trap the animal had walked into. Looking for food and shelter, he had squeezed through the half open door, but, once inside, the wide pack striking it on one side and the door post on the other, held him a prisoner. Quickly the boy removed the pack, then, armed with the camp shovel and axe, went to investigate the stack. It looked more like weeds than anything else and when he grabbed a handful it was rough and harsh and pricked his hands. It was green, however, and the horse ate it greedily. With the finding of his horse the lad's spirit rose and he set to work to move the sheep over. Between the camp and the house there was a deep wash which the drifting snow had almost filled, while elsewhere there was fully eighteen inches. With the pack-saddle on the horse, the lash rope for traces, and an old sled, evidently used by the farmer to haul water, he started to break a trail through which the sheep could make their way, the shovel being used on the drifts. With a little coaxing he got them started through this narrow lane, and eventually the whole bunch was inside the field eagerly gnawing every eatable thing in sight. About half an hour before dark that evening a long string of pack horses, with a rider in the lead and another following, came ploughing through the snow up to the cliff above where the sheep had been bedded. Two of the horses carried ordinary camp packs, the rest were loaded with hay, three bales to the horse. At the edge of the cliff the leader pulled up while every animal stopped in its tracks. "If we can't see anything of the sheep from here we might just as well give it up for the night," he called back to his companion. "Come on up and have a look."