by Frank Norris
VIII
THE NORTHER
Johnny knew I had a notebook crammed with the stories his friends hadtold me; but Johnny, being a wise youth, also knew that there was alwaysroom for one more. Perhaps that explains his sarcasm, for, as he calmlyturned his back on his fuming friend, he winked at me and sauntered off,whistling cheerfully.
Red spread his feet apart, jammed his fists against his thighs andstared after the youngster. His expression was a study and his openmouth struggled for a retort, but in vain. After a moment he shook hishead and slowly turned to me. "Hear th' fool? He 's from _Idyho_, heis. It never gets cold nowhere else on earth. Ain't it terrible to beso ignorant?" He glanced at the bunkhouse, into which Johnny had gonefor dry clothing. "So I ain't never seen no cold weather?" he musedthoughtfully. Snapping his fingers irritably, he wheeled toward thecorral. "I 'm goin' down to look at th' dam--there 's been lots ofwater leanin' ag'in it th' last week. Throw th' leather on Saint, ifyou wants, an' come along. I 'll tell you about some cold weather thathad th' _Idyho_ brand faded. _Cold_ weather! Huh!"
As he swung past the bunkhouse we saw Johnny and Billy Jordan leaning inthe doorway ragging each other, as cubs will. Johnny grinned at Red andexecuted a one-hand phrase of the sign language that is universallyknown, 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 minustwo toes on each foot in consequence thereof. They can't scare me noneby 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 toit; but we ain't. An' it frequent hits us goin' over th' fence, withboth feet off th' ground. Anyhow, that Norther was n't no storm--it wasth' 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 Arrowwith two hundred head. When th' aforementioned agitation was over theyhad less 'n one hundred. We lost a lot of cows, too; but our range issheltered good, an' that rock wall down past Meeker's bunkhouse stoppedour drifts, though lots of th' cows died there.
"We 'd had a mild winter for two weeks, an' a lot of rain. We waschirpin' like li'l fool birds about winter bein' over. Ever notice howmany times winter is over before it is? But Buck did n't think so; an'he shore can smell weather. We was also discussin' a certain campin'party Jimmy had discovered across th' river. Jimmy was at th' bunkhousethat shift an' he was a great hand for snoopin' around kickin' uptrouble. He reports there's twelve in th' party an' they 're camped backof Split Hill. Now, Split Hill is no place for a camp, even in th'summer; an' what got us was th' idea of campin' at all in th' winter.It riled Buck till he forgot to cross off three days on th' calendar,which we later discovered by help of th' almanac an' th' moon. Bucksends Hoppy over to scout around Split Hill. You know Hoppy. Hescouted for two days without bein' seen, an' without discoverin' anylawful an' sane reason why twelve hard-lookin' fellers should be campin'back of Split Hill in th' winter time. He also found they had come fromth' south, an' he swore there was n't no cow tracks leadin' toward themfrom our range. But there was lots of hoss tracks back and forth. An'when he reports that th' campers had left an' gone on north we all feelbetter. Then he adds they turned east below th' Double Arrow an' wentback south again. That's different. It's plain to some of us they waslookin' us over for future use; learnin' our ways an' th' lay of th'land. There was seven of us at th' time, but we could 'a' licked 'em ina fair fight.
"In them days we only had two line houses. Number One was near BigCoulee, with Cowan's at th' far end of its fifteen miles of north line;th' west line was a twenty-five-mile ride south to Lookout Peak. NumberTwo was where th' Jumpin' Bear empties into th' river, now part ofMeeker's range. From it th' riders went west twenty-five miles to th'Peak an' north from it twenty-five miles along th' east line. There wasa hundred thousan' acres in Conroy Valley an' thirty thousan' in th'Meeker triangle, which made up Section Two. At that time mebby tenthousan' cows was on this section--two-thirds of all of 'em. When webuilt Number Three on th' Peak this section was cut down to a reasonablesize. Th' third headquarters then was th' bunkhouse, with only th' eastline to ride. One part, th' shortest, ran north to Cowan's; th' otherrun about seventeen miles south to Li'l Timber, where th' line went onas part of Number Two's. We paired off an' had two weeks in each of 'emin them days.
"When we shifted at th' end of that week Jimmy Price an' Ace Fisher gotNumber One; Skinny an' Lanky was in Number Two; an' me an' Buck an'Hoppy took life easy in th' bunkhouse, with th' cook to feed us. Buck,he scouted all over th' ranch between th' lines an' worked harder thanany of us, spendin' his nights in th' nearest house.
"One mornin', about a week after th' campers left, Buck looked out ofth' bunkhouse door an' cautions me an' Hoppy to ride prepared for coldweather. I can see he 's worried, an' to please him we straps a blanketan' a buffalo robe behind our saddles, cussin' th' size of 'em under ourbreath. I 've got th' short ride that day, an' Buck says he 'll waitfor me to come back, after which we 'll scout around Medicine Bend. He's still worried about them campers. In th' Valley th' cows are thicker'n th' other parts of th' range, an' it would n't take no time to get abig herd together. He 's got a few things to mend, so he says he 'll doth' work before I get back.
"Down on Section Two things is happenin' fast, like they mostly do outhere. Twelve rustlers can do a lot if they have things planned, an''most any fair plan will work once. They only wanted one day--afterthat it would be a runnin' fight, with eight or nine of 'em layin' backto hold us off while th' others drove th' cows hard. Why, SlipperyTrendley an' Tamale Jose was th' only ones that ever slid across ourlines with that many men.
"Three rustlers slipped up to Number Two at night an' waited. WhenSkinny opened th' door in th' mornin' he was drove back with a hole inhis shoulder. Then there was h--l a-poppin' in that li'l mud shack.But it did n't do no good, for neither of 'em could get out alive untilafter dark. They learned that with sorrow, an' pain. An' they shore washet up about it. Ace Fisher, ridin' along th' west line from NumberOne, was dropped from ambush. Two more rustlers lay back of MedicineBend lookin' for any of us that might ride down from the bunkhouse. An'they sent two more over to Li'l Timber to lay under that ledge of rockthat sticks out of th' south side of th' bluff like a porch roof.Either me or Hoppy would be ridin' that way. They stacked th' deckclever; but Providence cut it square.
"Th' first miss-cue comes when a pert gray wolf lopes past ahead ofHoppy when he 's quite some distance above Li'l Timber. This gray wolfwas a whopper, an' Hoppy was all set to get him. He wanted that sassydevil more 'n he wanted money just then, so he starts after it. Mr. GrayWolf leads him a long chase over th' middle of th' range an' thensuddenly disappears. Hoppy hunts around quite a spell, an' then headsback for th' line. While he's huntin' for th' wolf it gets cold, an' itkeeps on gettin' colder fast.
"Me, I leaves later 'n usual that mornin'. An' I don't get to Cowan'suntil late. I 'm there when I notices how cussed cold it's got all of asudden. Cowan looks at his thermometer, which Jimmy later busts, an'says she has gone down thirty degrees since daylight. He gives me abottle of liquor Buck wanted, an' I ride west along th' north line,hopin' to meet Jimmy or Ace for a short talk.
"All at once I notice somebody 's pullin' a slate-covered blanket overth' north sky, an' I drag _my_ blanket out an' wrap it around me. I 'mgettin' blamed cold, an' also a li'l worried. Shall I go back to Cowan'sor head straight for th' bunkhouse? Cowan's the nearest by three miles,but what's three miles out here? It's got a lot colder than it was whenI was at Cowan's, an' while I 'm debatin' about it th' wind dies out. Ilook up an' see that th' slate-covered blanket has traveled fast. It's'most over my head, an' th' light is gettin' poor. When I look downagain I notice my cayuses's ears movin' back an' forth, an' he startspawin' an' actin' restless. That settles
it. I 'm backin' instinct justthen, an' I head for home. I ain't cussin' that blanket none now, an' I'm glad I got th' robe handy; an' that quart of liquor ain't bulky nomore.
"All at once th' bottom falls out of that lead sky, an' flakes as big asquarters sift down so fast they hurts my eyes, an' so thick I can't seetwenty feet. In ten minutes everythin' is white, an' in ten more I 'min a strange country. My hands an' feet ache with cold, an' I 'mdrawin' th' blanket closer, when there 's a puff of wind so cold it cutsinto my back like a knife. It passes quick, but it don't fool me. Iknow what's behind it. I reach for th' robe an' has it 'most unfastenedwhen there 's a roar an' I 'm 'most unseated by th' wind before I canget set. I did n't know then that it's goin' to blow that hard for threedays, an' it's just as well. It's full of ice--li'l slivers that aresharp as needles an' cut an' sting till they make th' skin raw. I letloose of th' robe an' tie my bandanna around my face, so my nose an'mouth is covered. My throat burns already almost to my lungs. GoodLord, but it _is_ cold! My hands are stiff when I go back for th' robe,an' it's all I can do to keep it from blowin' away from me. It takes mea long time to get it over th' blanket, an' my hands are 'most frozewhen it's fastened. That was a good robe, but it did n't make muchdifference that day. Th' cold cuts through it an' into my back as if itwas n't there. My feet are gettin' worse all th' time, an' it ain'tlong before I ain't got none, for th' achin' stops at th' ankles. Purtysoon only my knees ache, an' I know it won't be long till they won'tache no more.
"I 'm squirmin' in my clothes tryin' to rub myself warm when I rememberthat flask of liquor. Th' cork was out far enough for my teeth to getat it, an' I drink a quarter of it quick. It's an awful load--any othertime it would 'a' knocked me cold, for Cowan sold a lot worse stuff thenthan he does now. But it don't phase me, except for takin' most of th'linin' out of my mouth an' throat. It warms me a li'l, an' it makes myknees ache a li'l harder. But it don't last long--th' cold eats throughme just as hard as ever a li'l later, an' then I begin to see things an'get sleepy. Cows an' cayuses float around in th' air, an' I 'm countin'money, piles of it. I get warm an' drowsy an' find myself noddin'. Thatscares me a li'l, an' I fight hard ag'in it. If I go to sleep it's allover. It keeps gettin' worse, an' I finds my eyes shuttin' more an'more frequent, an' more an' more frequent thinkin' I don't care, anyhow.An' so I drifts along pullin' at th' bottle till it's empty. Thatshould 'a' killed me, then an' there--but it don't even make me realdrunk. Mebby I spilled some of it, my hands bein' nothin' but sticks.I can't see more 'n five feet now, an' my eyes water, which freezes on'em. I 've given up all hope of hearin' any shootin'. So I close th'peekhole in th' blanket an' robe, drawin' 'em tight to keep out some ofth' cold. I am sittin' up stiff in th' saddle, like a soldier, justfrom force of habit, and after a li'l while I don't know nothin' more.Pete says I was a corpse, froze stiff as a ramrod, an' he calls me ghostfor a long time in fun. But Pete was n't none too clear in his headabout that time.
"Down at Li'l Timber, Hoppy managed to get under th' shelter of thatprojectin' ledge of rock on th' south side of th' bluff. Th' snow an'ice is whirlin' under it because of a sort of back draft, but th' winddon't hit so hard. He 's fightin' that cayuse every foot, tryin' to getto th' cave at th' west end, an' disputin' th' right of way with th'cows that are packed under it.
There 's firewood under that ledge an' there 's food on th' hoof, an'snow water for drink; so if he can make th' cave he 's safe. He 's moreworried about his supply of smokin' tobacco than anythin' else, so faras he 's concerned.
"All at once he runs onto four men huddled half-froze in a bunch rightahead of him. He knows in a flash who they are, an' he drawsfumblingly, an' holds th' gun in his two hands, they are so cold. Oneclean hit an' five clean misses in twenty feet! They're gropin' fortheir guns when a sudden gust of wind whirls down from th' top of th'hill, pilin' snow an' ice on 'em till they can't see nor breathe. An' acouple of old trees come down to make things nicer. Hoppy is blinded,an' when he gets so he can see again there's one rustler's arm stickin'up out of th' snow, but no signs of th' other three. They blundered outinto th' open tryin' to get away from th' stuff comin' down on 'em, an'that means they won't be back no more.
"Hoppy manages to get to th' cave, tie his cayuse to a fallen tree, an'gather enough firewood for a good blaze, which he puts in front of th'cave. It takes him a long time to use up his matches one by one, an'then he pulls th' lead out of a cartridge with his teeth, shakes th'powder loose in it an' along th' barrel. Usin' his cigarette papers fortinder he gets th' fire started an' goin' good an' is feelin' somecheerful when he remembers th' three rustlers driftin' south. They wasbound to hit a big arroyo that would lead 'em almost ag'in' Number Two'sdoor. With th' wind drivin' 'em straight for it, Hoppy thinks it mightmean trouble for Lanky or Skinny. He did n't think about 'em onlyhavin' wool-lined slickers on, or he 'd 'a' knowed they couldn't livetill they got halfway. They left their blankets in camp so they couldwork fast.
"People have called us clannish, an' said we was a lovin' bunch' becausewe stick together so tight. We 've faced so much together that us ofth' old bunch has got th' same blood in our veins. We ain't eightmen--we 're one man in eight different kinds of bodies. G--d helpanybody that tries to make us less! It's one thing to stand up an' swapshots with a gunman; but it's another to turn yore back on a cave an' afire like that an' go out into what is purty nigh shore death on a longchance of helpin' a couple of friends that was able to take care ofthemselves. That's one of th' things that explains why we made ShortyJones an' his eleven men pay with their lives for takin' Jimmy's life.Twelve for one! That fight at Buckskin ain't generally understood, evenby our friends. An' Hoppy crowns his courage twice in that one storm.Ain't he an old son-of-a-gun?
"He leaves that fire an' forces his cayuse to take him out in th' stormagain, finds that th' arroyo is level full of snow, but has both banksswept bare. He passes them three rustlers in th' next ten minutes--theywon't do no more cow-liftin'. Then he tries to turn back, but that'sfoolish. So he drifts on, gettin' a li'l loco by now. He 's purty nearasleep when he thinks he hears a shot. He fights his cayuse again, butcan't stop it, so he falls off an' lets it drift, an' crawls an' fightshis way back to where that shot was fired from. G--d only knows how hedoes it, but he falls over a cow an' sees Lanky huggin' its belly forth' li'l warmth in th' carcass. An' he ought to 'a' found him, afterleavin' his cayuse an' turnin' back on foot in that h--l storm! Th'drifts was beginnin' to make then--when th' storm was over I saw driftsthirty feet high in th' open; an' in th' valley there was some that run'most to th' top of th' bluffs, an' they're near sixty feet high.
"Well, Lanky is as crazy as him, an' won't let go of that cow, an' theyhave a fight, which is good for both of 'em. Finally Lanky gets somesense in his head an' realizes what Hoppy is tryin' to do for him, an'they go staggerin' down wind, first one fallin' an' then th' other. Butthey keep fightin' like th' game boys they are, neither givin' a cussfor himself, but shore obstinate that he 's goin' to get th' other outof it. That's _our_ spirit; an' we 're proud of it, by G--d! Hoppywraps th' robe around Lanky, an' so they stagger on, neither one knowin'very much by that time. Th' Lord must 'a' pitied that pair, an' admiredth' stuff He 'd put in 'em, for they bump into th' line house kerslam,an' drop, all done an' exhausted.
"Meanwhile Skinny's hoppin' around inside, prayin' an' cussin' bystreaks, every five minutes openin' th' door an' firm' off his Colt. Hehas tied th' two ropes together, an' frequent he ties one end to th'door, th' other to hisself, an' goes out pokin' around in th' snow,hopin' to stumble over his pardner. He 's plumb forgot his bad shoulderlong ago. Purty soon he opens th' door again to shoot off th' gun, an'in streaks somethin' between his laigs. He slams th' door as he jumpsaside, an' then looks scared at Lanky's sombrero! Mebby he's slowhoppin' outside an' diggin' them out of th' drift that's near covered'em! Now, don't think bad of Skinny. He dass n't leave th' house tosearch any distance, even if he could 'a' seen anythin'. His
best playis to stick there an' shoot off his gun--Lanky might drift past if hewas not there to signal. Skinny thought more of Lanky any time than hedid of hisself, th' emaciated match!
"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 'emwith 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' firegoin', to make 'em lose no arms or laigs.
"It seems that Lanky, watchin' his chance as soon as th' snow fell heavyenough to cover his movements, slipped out of th' house an' started tocircle out around them festive rustlers that held him an' his friendprisoners. He made Skinny stay behind to hold th' house an' keep a gunpoppin'. Lanky has worked up behind where th' rustlers was layin' whenth' 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 himquick. He can't see, an' he can't hear Skinny's shots no more! He doesth' best he can an' tries to fight back along his trail, but in no timethere ain't no tracks to follow. Then he loses his head an' startswanderin' until a cow blunders down on him. He shoots th' cow an' hugsits belly to keep warm an' then he don't really remember nothin' 'tillhe wakes up in th' bunk alongside of Hoppy, both gettin' over an awfuldrunk. Skinny kept feedin' liquor to 'em till it was gone, an' he had aplenty when he began.
"Jimmy Price was at Number One when th' blow started, an' Buck was inth' 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'tsee 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 hiswife sloped with a better-lookin' man. He was scared she might get tiredof th' other feller an' sift back, so he sells out his li'l store, loadsa waggin with blankets, grub, an' firewood, an' starts south, winter orno winter. He moves fast for a new range, where he can make a newbeginnin' an' start life fresh, with five years of burnin' matrimonialexperience as his valuablest asset. Pete says he reckoned mebby hewould n't have so many harness sores if he run single th' rest of hislife; heretofore he 'd been so busy applyin' salve that he did n't havetime 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 outspokenhabit 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 playedthat 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' wholecounty. It ain't every collar-galled husband that's got th' gumption orsmartness to jump th' minute th' hat is lifted. Pete had.
"He's drivin' across our range, an' when th' wind dies out sudden an'th' snow sifts down, he 's just smart enough to get out his beddin' an'wrap it around him till he looks like a bale of cotton. An' even atthat he 's near froze an' lookin' for a place to make a stand when hefeels a bump. It's me, fallin' off my cayuse, against his front wheel.He emerges from his beddin', lifts me into th' waggin, puts most of hisblankets around me, an' stops. Knowin' he can't save th' cayuses, heshoots 'em. That means grub for us, anyhow, if we run short of th' goodstuff. Nobody but Pete could 'a' got th' canvas off that waggin in sucha gale, but he did it. He busts th' arches an' slats off th' top of th'waggin an' uses 'em for firewood. Th' canvas he drapes over th' box,lettin' it hang down on both sides to th' ground. An' in about fiveminutes th' whole thing was covered over with snow. Pete 's thestrongest man we ever saw, an' we 've seen some good ones. Wrastlin'that canvas with stiff hands was a whole lot more than what he done toBig Sandy up there on Thunder Mesa.
"Pete says I was dead when he grabbed me, an' smellin' disgraceful ofliquor. But th' first thing I know is lookin' up in th' gloom at aceilin' that's right close to my head, an' at a sorta rafter. Thatrafter gives me a shock. It don't even touch th' ceilin', but runsalong 'most a foot below it. I close my eyes an' do a lot of thinkin'.I remember freezin' to death, but that's all. An' just then I hears afaint voice say: 'He shore was dead.' I don't know Pete then, or thathe talked to hisself sometimes. An' I reckon I was a li'l off in myhead, at that. I begin to wonder if he means me, an' purty soon I 'mshore of it. An' don't I sympathize with myself? I 'm dead an' gonesomewhere; but no preacher I ever heard ever described no place likethis. Then I smell smoke an' burnin' meat--which gives me a clew to th'range I 'm on. Mebby I 'm shelved in th' ice box, waitin' my turn, orsomethin'. I knew I 'd led a sinful life. But there wasn't no use ofrubbin' it in--it's awful to be dead an' know it.
"Th' next time I opens my eyes I can't see nothin'; but I can feelsomethin' layin' alongside of me. It's breathin' slow an' regular, anit bothers me till I get th' idea all of a sudden. It's another deadone, cut out of th' herd an' shoved in my corral to wait for subsequentevents. I felt sorry for him, an' lay there tryin' to figger it out,an' I 'm still figgerin' when it starts to get light. Th' other fellergrunts an' sits up, bumpin' his head solid against that fool rafter. Nodead man that was shoved in a herd consigned to heaven ever used suchlanguage, which makes me all the shorer of where I am. But if hell's hotwe 've still got a long way to go.
"He sits there rubbin' his head an' cussin' steadily, an' I 'm so movedby it that I compliments him. He jumps an' bumps his head again, an'looks at me close. 'D--d if you ain't a husky corpse,' he says. Thatsettles it. I ain't crazy, like I was hopin', but I 'in dead. 'You an'me is on th' ragged edge of h--l,' he adds.
"'But who tipped _you_ off?' I asks. 'They just shoved me in here an'did n't tell me nothin' at all.'
"'Crazy as th' devil,' he grunts, lookin' at me harder.
"'Yo 're a liar,' I replies. 'I may be dead, but d--d if I 'm crazy!'
"'An' I don't blame you, either,' he mused, sorrowful. 'Now you keepquiet till I gets somethin' to eat,' an' he crawls into a li'l roundhole at th' other end of th' room.
"Purty soon I smell smoke again, an' after a long time he comes backwith some hot coffee an' burned meat. I grab for th' grub, an' while I'm eatin' I demands to know where I am.
"He laughs, real cheerful, an' tells me. I 'm under his waggin,surrounded by canvas an' any G--d's quantity of snow. Th' drift over usis fifteen foot high, th' wind has died down, an' it's still snowin' sohard he can't see twenty feet. It is also away down below freezin'.
"We stayed under that drift 'most three weeks, livin' on raw meat afterour firewood gave out. We didn't suffer none from th' cold, though,under all that snow an' with all th' blankets we had. When it stoppedsnowin' we discovered a drift shamefully high about a mile northeast ofus, an' from th' smoke comin' out of it I knew it was th' bunkhouse.
"Well, to cut it short, it was. An' mebby Buck wasn't glad to see me!He was worried 'most sick an' as soon as we could, we got cayuses andstarted out to look for th' others, scared stiff at what we expected tofind."
He paused and was silent a moment. "But only Ace was missin'," headded. "We found him an' th' rustlers later, when th' snow went off."
He paused again and shook his head. "It shore was a miracle that we didn't go with 'em, all of us, except Buck. Pete was so plumb disgustedwith travelin' in th' winter, an' had lost his cayuses, that when Buckoffers him Ace's bunk he stays. An' he ain't never left us since. Huh!Cold? That cub don't know nothin'--mebby he will when he grows up, butI dunno, at that. _Idyho_!"