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Updated: June 7, 2025
Do you suppose she's been walking that way for three days and nights? Why, she's only a child no older than my own daughter." Hillas nodded. "Where are her people? Where's her husband?" "Down in Yankton, Dan told you, working for the Winter. Got to have the money to live." "Where's the doctor?" "Nearest one's in Haney four days' trip away by stage." The traveler stared, frowningly.
The blurs swayed like battered leaves on a vine that the wind tore in two at last and flung the living beings wide. Dan, clinging to the broken rope, rolled over and found Hillas with the frayed end of the line in his hand, reaching about through the black drifts for the stranger. Dan crept closer, his mouth at Hillas's ear, shouting, "Quick! Right behind me if we're to live through it!"
Dan felt behind him for Hillas and shoved the reins against his arm. "I'll get him up or cut leaders loose! If I don't come back drive to light. Don't get out!" Dan disappeared in the white fury. There were sounds of a struggle; the sled jerked sharply and stood still. Slowly it strained forward. Hillas was standing, one foot outside on the runner, as they traveled a team's length ahead.
There was the sound of jingling harness and the crunch of runners. The men bundled into fur coats. "Hillas, the draw right by the house here," Smith stopped and looked sharply at the plainsman, then went on with firm carelessness, "This draw ought to strike a low grade that would come out near the river level. Does Dan know Clark's address?" Hillas nodded.
"Frontiersmen, same as us. You're living on what they did. We're getting this frontier ready for those who come after. Want our children to have a better chance than we had. Our reason's same as theirs. Hillas told you the truth. Country's all right if we had a railroad." "Humph!" With a contemptuous look across the desert. "Where's your freight, your grain, cattle "
I know you and the Clarks are people of education and, oh, all the rest; you could make your way anywhere." Hillas spoke slowly. "I think you have to live here to know. It means something to be a pioneer. You can't be one if you've got it in you to be a quitter. The country will be all right some day." He reached for his greatcoat, bringing out a brown-paper parcel.
There was the sound of jingling harness and the crunch of runners. The men bundled into fur coats. "Hillas, the draw right by the house here," Smith stopped and looked sharply at the plainsman, then went on with firm carelessness, "This draw ought to strike a low grade that would come out near the river level. Does Dan know Clark's address?" Hillas nodded.
The shriek of the runners along the frozen snow cut through the ominous darkness. "Hillas," Dan's voice came sharply, "stand up and look for the light on Clark's guide-pole about a mile to the right. God help us if it ain't burning." Hillas struggled up, one clumsy mitten thatching his eyes from the blinding needles. "I don't see it, Dan. We can't be more than a mile away.
He slowly withdrew his right hand holding a parcel wrapped in brown paper. He tore a three-cornered flap in the cover, looked at the brightly colored contents, replaced the flap and returned the parcel, his chin a little higher. Dan watched the northern sky-line restlessly. "It won't be snow. Look like a blizzard to you, Hillas?" The traveler sat up. "Blizzard?"
With a shriek the wind tore at them, beat the breath from their bodies, cut them with stinging needle-points and threw them aside. Dan reached back to make sure of Hillas who fumbled through the darkness for the stranger. Slowly they struggled ahead, the cold growing more intense; two steps, four, and the mounting fury of the blizzard reached its zenith.
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