his bleak mesa afterwards and trust to a "cut-in scene" to cover the break.

He did not trust Bill Holmes to turn the crank on that slow, plodding march of misery.

With his diaphragm of the camera wide open to get all the light possible, because the air was filled with falling snow, he followed the herd, as it wound snakelike down the easiest descents, making for the more sheltered small canyons that opened out upon the flat.

"Cattle drifting before the wind," read the script; and now Luck saw them coming, their snow-whitened backs humped to the driving storm, heads lowered and swaying weakly from side to side with the shambling motion of their feet.

They were drifting before the wind, just as he had planned that they should do.