[Illustration: a farm scene]




CHAPTER II.

"The Samaritans."


Many years have passed since the day that "Peoria Red" and I were caught
out of doors and entirely unprepared to face one of the worst blizzards
that ever swept down from the Arctic regions across the shelterless
plains of the Dakotas.

We had been "hoboing" a ride upon a freight train and had been fired off
by its crew at a lone siding about fifty miles east of Minot, North
Dakota. In those early days trains were few and the chances that one of
them would stop at this lone siding were so small that we decided to
walk to the nearest water tank, which in those days of small engines
were never more than twenty miles apart, and there catch another ride.

It was a clear winter morning, and the sun's rays were vacillating upon
the snow, that like a gigantic bedspread covered the landscape, and
which made walking upon the hidden and uneven track a most wearisome
task, the more so as neither of us had tasted a mouthful of food since
the preceding day's dinner hour. While we were debating and wondering
how and where we would rake up a meal amongst the few and widely
scattered ranches, the wind veered to the north and commenced to blow
with ever increasing force. Soon heavy, gray clouds followed in its