They surged onward, bawling, crowding, trampling, hooking without
mercy. Companions they had been for months before, eating together,
sleeping together, warming each other, playing together sometimes when
the sun was bright. That was all forgotten now, for the hunger-rage
was on them, and they were brutes, plain brutes, with every kind
instinct dead in their shivering breasts. They knew but one law, the
law of the strongest, as they drove onward, stumbling and crowding,
with the cold wind stinging them like a lash.

The night closed in, dark and cheerless, closed in early, under
the dull gray, unrelenting skies, and although lights blinked out
cheerfully from uncurtained windows, and willow plumes of smoke spread
themselves on the cold night air above all the farm-houses, the hearts
of the people were apprehensive.

It was the last day of February--green grass was still far away--and
the cattle, hungry, red-eyed and clamorous, were coming home!





CHAPTER II

THE DAY!


"When time lets slip one little perfect day,
O take it--for it may not come again."