Stormy, although she had been an avid sportswoman back in England, was well aware that she would not be able to participate in the actual buffalo hunt. Happily, she resigned herself to the fact that she would be the keeper of the camp.
As the party traveled along they could only give thanks, in this wonderful fall Kansas weather, that they were not plagued by English rain and fog. They laughed. They sang. They jested with each other.
Their merriment was indeed high one day when, in the midst of their joviality, they took notice of a small fleecy cloud that passed over the sun. Perhaps they were thankful for this bit of welcome reprieve from the rays of the sun. But then another lacy cloud quickly joined its mate, further blanketing the sun's warmth from the minute creatures crossing the open and shelterless plains.
Stormy had a delicate little jacket with her and donned this as a distinct chill filled the air. Soon, the three men were turning up their coat collars to ward off the advancing drop in temperature. In spite of the sudden chill they were delighted when a few lazy snowflakes came drifting down. The sifting whiteness only managed to increase their fine and happy moods as they watched the snow fall to the prairie and melt. There was no serious concern of a dire change in the weather. After all, it was only November. Besides, the land agent from which they had acquired their three claims had assured them that Kansas never had any severe winters what so ever.
Riding along through the beauty of snow falling softly upon the landscape, they came in sight of a line of trees that marked where a little stream was gurgling along. As night was near they decided to make camp along this creek. As they made camp and ate their supper they assured themselves that, by morning, the snow would have ceased and they could happily be on their way. With these happy thoughts they turned in for the night fully expecting to have a warm and cozy sleep.
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