The dead pines and cedars, lying in drifts in the gulches, or in tangled masses where the winds had torn them out by their roots, was an excellent fuel supply, and but for this provision of nature the rigors of the winters would have been felt far more keenly. But when the man of the house went after firewood, the time was long until his return. If he was late, the wife would have a troubled sense, an uneasiness for fear that a log had fallen upon her husband, or a rock had loosed from its ancient moorings and tumbled down upon him. And this fear would hold with increasing interest her attention until he hove into view.

One day the cow pulled her picket pin, and started off. Mrs. Scamahorn tried to overtake her, and when the end of the dragging rope was within reach, she tried to turn her back. But the cow was thirsty and went to the stream. After drinking, she crossed to the other side. Fearful of losing the valuable cow, Mrs. Scamahorn pulled off shoes and stockings and waded the stream. The cow went on, and in desperation, the timid woman accosted two strangers who were building a claim cabin. They caught the cow, hitched up the team and took Mrs. Scamahorn and prized livestock back to the "home range." They refused any pay for the service, but were very glad indeed to accept a sack of fresh eggs.

Another time, Mr. Scamahorn had left early for Pine ridge for wood. He thought the trip would take two days, and had gone to a neighbors to get a girl to come over and stay with his wife, but she could not come. Shortly after he left a party of suspicious looking men came and went into camp near their tent.