Sunset Ranch: A Story of a Boy's Adventures in the West — page 100: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

92 The Grand Round-Up. heart—he would treat them as brothers, and risk his life, if need be, to return the favor. An Indian never forgets good or evil, in which he differs materially from his superior white cousin. The night had fallen. It still stormed, though the wind had seen its best, and the fall of feathery flakes grew hourly less heavy. But for the cabin being so very small, Karl would have brought the nags inside, in order to make them more comiortable. As a next resort, he and Little Buckshot, who was pleased to temporarily don Cuthbert’s heavy jacket while at work outside, made a rough shelter of fallen branches that would serve in lieu of a lean- to for the horses. They, too, had heard the hacen wolves close to camp—doubtless scenting the store of fresh buffalo meat—and were of the opinion that only by means of a strict vigil could the horses be saved. It was far from a pleasant task, but Western lads become early accustomed to the rigors of camp life, and Cuthbert proved an apt pupil. There were occasions when the wolves seemed on the point of making a rush upon the tethered horses, and it became necessary to bowl over the most im- portunate in order to intimidate the rest. Thus night passed away. Ere morning dawned the stars shone out, proving that the storm was over. Being an early visitor, it had not the staying qualities that marked those of midwinter. Little Buckshot had, in his own queer way, told them the story of his adventure. It did not differ much from their own experience, only that it had been so prolonged as to reach the dread climax from which they rescued him. Early during the storm the little party had been ConniclooOoks.€©