him in the soft snow."

"Nothing will hurt him any more, poor old Jeff," said Douglas.

He dismounted and moved toward the body. Then, with teeth chattering
audibly, he tied the lariat round Jeff's feet and told Jude to get on to
the saddled horse.

"Guide him easy. I'll walk and lead the other horses and see that nothing
goes wrong."

Still whimpering, Judith obeyed, and the strange little procession moved
toward the cabin. When they reached the shed, Doug loosened the lariat.
"Judith," he said, "the best thing we can do is to put him in the
buckboard and take him home."

"I'm so afraid of a dead man, Doug!"

"So am I. But it's only poor old Oscar, after all, who's been our
next-door neighbor all our lives. We can't leave him here alone, like
a dead horse. We'll take him home. That's what Dad or any of the men
would do. Come on, Jude."

They established poor Oscar on the floor of the buckboard, among the mail
bags. They hitched up James and Oscar's big black, and tied Swift to the
tail end. All this time the moon shone coldly on the white hills, and the
coyotes howled nearer and nearer.

"Cover him deep with the quilts, Doug," whispered Judith. "I'm going to
make up a pot of hot coffee, before we start."