A dense blackness, out of which roared a gale that robbed them of their breath, struck them.

The snow was hurled against them like a sand blast, biting deep, blinding them.
It took them more than an hour to travel the distance that lay between the point at which they had cut the fence, and the line cabin.

And when they reached a windbreak near the structure the two men rode behind it, silent, thankful.
Lawler had ridden forth, prepared for bad weather.

His face was now muffled in a huge scarf that encircled his neck, and his eyes were shielded by the peak of the fur cap he wore.

He dismounted, waved the men toward a dugout, and watched them as they dismounted and led their horses through a narrow door.