"It don’t take long to kick in a lot of snow with that wind blowin’ an’ he rubs them two till he ’s got tears in his eyes. Then he fills ’em with hot stew an’ whisky, rolls ’em up together an’ heaves ’em in th’ same bunk. It ain’t warm enough in that house, even with th’ fire goin’, to make ’em lose no arms or laigs. "It seems that Lanky, watchin’ his chance as soon as th’ snow fell heavy enough to cover his movements, slipped out of th’ house an’ started to circle out around them festive rustlers that held him an’ his friend prisoners. He made Skinny stay behind to hold th’ house an’ keep a gun poppin’. Lanky has worked up behind where th’ rustlers was layin’ when th’ Norther strikes full force. It near blows him over, an’, not havin’ on nothin’ but an old army overcoat that was wore out, th’ cold gets him quick. He can’t see, an’ he can’t hear Skinny’s shots no more! He does th’ best he can an’ tries to fight back along his trail, but in no time there ain’t no tracks to follow. Then he loses his head an’ starts wanderin’ until a cow blunders down on him. He shoots th’ cow an’ hugs its belly to keep warm an’ then he don’t really remember nothin’ ’till he wakes up in th’ bunk alongside of Hoppy, both gettin’ over an awful drunk. Skinny kept feedin’ liquor to ’em till it was gone, an’ he had a plenty when he began. "Jimmy Price was at Number One when th’ blow started, an’ Buck was in th’ bunkhouse, an’ it was three weeks before they could get out an’ around, on account of th’ snow fallin’ so steady an’ hard they could n’t see nothin’. "Well, getting back to me explains how Pete Wilson came to th’ Bar-20. He is migratin’ south, just havin’ had th’ pleasure of learnin’ that his wife sloped with a better-lookin’ man. He was scared she might get tired of th’ other feller an’ sift back, so he sells out his li’l store, loads a waggin with blankets, grub, an’ firewood, an’ starts south, winter or no winter. He moves fast for a new range, where he can make a new beginnin’ an’ start life fresh, with five years of burnin’ matrimonial experience as his valuablest asset. Pete says he reckoned mebby he would n’t have so many harness sores if he run single th’ rest of his life; heretofore he ’d been so busy applyin’ salve that he did n’t have time to find out just what was th’ trouble with th’ double harness. Lots of men feel that way, but they ain’t got Pete’s unlovely outspoken habit of thought. We used to reckon mebby he was n’t as smart as th’ rest of us, him bein’ slow an’ blunderin’ in his retorts. We ’ve played that with coppers lots of times since, though. While he ain’t what you ’d call quick at retortin’, his retorts usually is heard by th’ whole county. It ain’t every collar-galled husband that’s got th’ gumption or smartness to jump th’ minute th’ hat is lifted. Pete had.