THE BIG-HORN SHEEP 



169 



whirling white wreaths struck us not the soft, feathery flakes of a sea- 

 board snow-storm, but fine ice-dust, driven level by the wind, choking us, 

 blinding our eyes, and cutting our faces if we turned towards it. The 

 roar of the blizzard drowned our voices when we were but six feet apart : 

 had it not been on our backs we could not have gone a hundred yards, for 

 we could no more face it than we could face a frozen sand-blast. In an 

 instant the strange, wild outlines of the high buttes between which we 

 were riding were shrouded from our sight We had to grope our way 

 through a kind of shimmering dusk ; and when once or twice we were 

 obliged by some impassable cliff or canon to retrace our steps, it was 

 all that we could do to urge the horses even a few paces against the 

 wind-blown snow-grains which stung like steel filings. But this extreme 

 violence only lasted about four hours. The moon was full, and its beams 

 struggled through scudding clouds and snow-drift, so that we reached 

 the ranch without difficulty, and when we got there the wind had already 

 begun to lull. The snow still fell thick and fast; but before we went to 

 bed this also showed signs of stopping. Accordingly we determined that 

 we would leave the wagon where it was for a day or two, and start early 

 next morning for a range of high hills som'e ten miles off, much haunted by 

 sheep ; for we did not wish to let pass the chance of tracking the game 

 offered by the first good snow of the season. 



Next morning we started by starlight. The snow lay several inches 

 deep on the ground ; the whole land was a dazzling white. It was very 

 cold. Within the ranch everything was frozen solid in spite of the thick 

 log walls ; but the air was so still and clear that we did not realize how low 

 the temperature was. Accordingly, as the fresh horse I had to take was 

 young and wild, I did not attempt to wear my fur coat. I soon felt my 

 mistake. The windless cold ate into my marrow ; and when, shortly after 

 the cloudless winter sunrise, we reached our hunting-grounds and picketed 

 out the horses, I was already slightly frost-bitten. But the toil of hunting 

 over the snow-covered crags soon made me warm. 



All day we walked and climbed through a white wonderland. On every 

 side the snowy hills, piled one on another, stretched away, chain after 

 chain, as far as sight could reach. The stern and iron-bound land had 

 been changed to a frozen sea of billowy, glittering peaks and ridges. At 

 last, late in the afternoon, three great big-horn suddenly sprang up to our 

 right and crossed the table-land in front of and below us at a strong, 

 stretching gallop. The lengthening sunbeams glinted on their mighty 

 horns ; their great supple brown bodies were thrown out in bold relief 



against the white landscape ; as they plowed with long strides through 

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