suddenly appeared out of the swirling blackness. And Lorin, beside our tent,
was taking hold of the mare's bridle. I could have sworn he muttered,
"Thank God." He jarred me out of the saddle, guided me to the tent flap
and left to care for the horses.
For three days
and nights snow fell heavily, and howling winds piled it around in great
drifts. For three days 10 carloads of us stayed in our tents, except when
nature made us tunnel out. We shared food and fuel oil, and were grateful for
the warmth and shelter from the cold and wind.
When the storm
broke, a small plane flew over from Salmon City, dropping fuel and newspapers
and telling us we had been marooned. The packer rode out and arranged for a
bulldozer to come and clear a trail down the mountain.
Before leaving I
walked down to the corral. My roan was there with the other horses. He walked a
few steps in my direction, his ugly countenance almost saying, "Do you want
to go another round, bub?"
I said aloud.