Red spread his feet apart, jammed his fists against his thighs and stared after the youngster. His expression was a study and his open mouth struggled for a retort, but in vain. After a moment he shook his head and slowly turned to me. "Hear th’ fool? He ’s from _Idyho_, he is. It never gets cold nowhere else on earth. Ain’t it terrible to be so ignorant?" He glanced at the bunkhouse, into which Johnny had gone for dry clothing. "So I ain’t never seen no cold weather?" he mused thoughtfully. Snapping his fingers irritably, he wheeled toward the corral. "I ’m goin’ down to look at th’ dam—there ’s been lots of water leanin’ ag’in it th’ last week. Throw th’ leather on Saint, if you wants, an’ come along. I ’ll tell you about some cold weather that had th’ _Idyho_ brand faded. _Cold_ weather! Huh!" As he swung past the bunkhouse we saw Johnny and Billy Jordan leaning in the doorway ragging each other, as cubs will. Johnny grinned at Red and executed a one-hand phrase of the sign language that is universally known, which Red returned with a chuckle. "Wish he ’d been here th’ time God took a hand in a big game on this ranch," he said. "I ’m minus two toes on each foot in consequence thereof. They can’t scare me none by preachin’ a red-hot hell. No, sir; not any." He was silent a moment. "Mebby it ain’t so bad when a feller is used to it; but we ain’t. An’ it frequent hits us goin’ over th’ fence, with both feet off th’ ground. Anyhow, that Norther was n’t no storm—it was th’ attendant agitation caused by th’ North Pole visitin’ th’ Gulf. "Cowan had just put Buckskin on th’ map by buildin’ th’ first shack. John Bartlett an’ Shorty Jones, d—n him, was startin’ th’ Double Arrow with two hundred head. When th’ aforementioned agitation was over they had less ’n one hundred. We lost a lot of cows, too; but our range is sheltered good, an’ that rock wall down past Meeker’s bunkhouse stopped our drifts, though lots of th’ cows died there.