CHAPTER XIV
SLAUGHTER'S BRIDGE
Herds bound for points beyond the Yellowstone, in Montana, alwaysconsidered Dodge as the halfway landmark on the trail, though we hadhardly covered half the distance to the destination of our CircleDots. But with Dodge in our rear, all felt that the backbone of thedrive was broken, and it was only the middle of June. In order todivide the night work more equitably, for the remainder of the tripthe first and fourth guards changed, the second and third remaining asthey were. We had begun to feel the scarcity of wood for cookingpurposes some time past, and while crossing the plains of westernKansas, we were frequently forced to resort to the old bed grounds ofa year or two previous for cattle chips. These chips were a poorsubstitute, and we swung a cowskin under the reach of the wagon, sothat when we encountered wood on creeks and rivers we could lay in asupply. Whenever our wagon was in the rear, the riders on either sideof the herd were always on the skirmish for fuel, which they leftalongside the wagon track, and our cook was sure to stow it awayunderneath on the cowskin.
In spite of any effort on our part, the length of the days made longdrives the rule. The cattle could be depended on to leave the bedground at dawn, and before the outfit could breakfast, secure mounts,and overtake the herd, they would often have grazed forward two orthree miles. Often we never threw them on the trail at all, yet whenit came time to bed them at night, we had covered twenty miles. Theywere long, monotonous days; for we were always sixteen to eighteenhours in the saddle, while in emergencies we got the benefit of thelimit. We frequently saw mirages, though we were never led astray byshady groves of timber or tempting lakes of water, but always keptwithin a mile or two of the trail. The evening of the third day afterForrest left us, he returned as we were bedding down the cattle atdusk, and on being assured that no officers had followed us, resumedhis place with the herd. He had not even reached the Solomon River,but had stopped with a herd of Millet's on Big Boggy. This creek hereported as bottomless, and the Millet herd as having lost betweenforty and fifty head of cattle in attempting to force it at theregular crossing the day before his arrival. They had scouted thecreek both up and down since without finding a safe crossing. Itseemed that there had been unusually heavy June rains through thatsection, which accounted for Boggy being in its dangerous condition.Millet's foreman had not considered it necessary to test such aninsignificant stream until he got a couple of hundred head of cattlefloundering in the mire. They had saved the greater portion of themired cattle, but quite a number were trampled to death by the others,and now the regular crossing was not approachable for the stench ofdead cattle. Flood knew the stream, and so did a number of our outfit,but none of them had any idea that it could get into such animpassable condition as Forrest reported.
The next morning Flood started to the east and Priest to the west tolook out a crossing, for we were then within half a day's drive of thecreek. Big Boggy paralleled the Solomon River in our front, the twonot being more than five miles apart. The confluence was far below insome settlements, and we must keep to the westward of all immigration,on account of the growing crops in the fertile valley of the Solomon.On the westward, had a favorable crossing been found, we would almosthave had to turn our herd backward, for we were already within thehalf circle which this creek described in our front. So after the twomen left us, we allowed the herd to graze forward, keeping severalmiles to the westward of the trail in order to get the benefit of thebest grazing. Our herd, when left to itself, would graze from a mileto a mile and a half an hour, and by the middle of the forenoon thetimber on Big Boggy and the Solomon beyond was sighted. On reachingthis last divide, some one sighted a herd about five or six miles tothe eastward and nearly parallel with us. As they were three or fourmiles beyond the trail, we could easily see that they were grazingalong like ourselves, and Forrest was appealed to to know if it wasthe Millet herd. He said not, and pointed out to the northeast aboutthe location of the Millet cattle, probably five miles in advance ofthe stranger on our right. When we overtook our wagon at noon, McCann,who had never left the trail, reported having seen the herd. Theylooked to him like heavy beef cattle, and had two yoke of oxen totheir chuck wagon, which served further to proclaim them as strangers.
Neither Priest nor Flood returned during the noon hour, and when theherd refused to lie down and rest longer, we grazed them forward tillthe fringe of timber which grew along the stream loomed up not a miledistant in our front. From the course we were traveling, we wouldstrike the creek several miles above the regular crossing, and asForrest reported that Millet was holding below the old crossing on asmall rivulet, all we could do was to hold our wagon in the rear, andawait the return of our men out on scout for a ford. Priest was thefirst to return, with word that he had ridden the creek out fortwenty-five miles and had found no crossing that would be safe for amud turtle. On hearing this, we left two men with the herd, and therest of the outfit took the wagon, went on to Boggy, and made camp. Itwas a deceptive-looking stream, not over fifty or sixty feet wide. Inplaces the current barely moved, shallowing and deepening, from a fewinches in places to several feet in others, with an occasional poolthat would swim a horse. We probed it with poles until we weresatisfied that we were up against a proposition different fromanything we had yet encountered. While we were discussing thesituation, a stranger rode up on a fine roan horse, and inquired forour foreman. Forrest informed him that our boss was away looking for acrossing, but we were expecting his return at any time; and invitedthe stranger to dismount. He did so, and threw himself down in theshade of our wagon. He was a small, boyish-looking fellow, of sandycomplexion, not much, if any, over twenty years old, and smiledcontinuously.
"My name is Pete Slaughter," said he, by way of introduction, "andI've got a herd of twenty-eight hundred beef steers, beyond the trailand a few miles back. I've been riding since daybreak down the creek,and I'm prepared to state that the chance of crossing is as good righthere as anywhere. I wanted to see your foreman, and if he'll help,we'll bridge her. I've been down to see this other outfit, but theyridicule the idea, though I think they'll come around all right. Iborrowed their axe, and to-morrow morning you'll see me with my outfitcutting timber to bridge Big Boggy. That's right, boys; it's the onlything to do. The trouble is I've only got eight men all told. I don'taim to travel over eight or ten miles a day, so I don't need a bigoutfit. You say your foreman's name is Flood? Well, if he don't returnbefore I go, some of you tell him that he's wasting good time lookingfor a ford, for there ain't none."
In the conversation which followed, we learned that Slaughter wasdriving for his brother Lum, a widely known cowman and drover, whom wehad seen in Dodge. He had started with the grass from north Texas, andby the time he reached the Platte, many of his herd would be fit toship to market, and what were not would be in good demand as feedersin the corn belt of eastern Nebraska. He asked if we had seen his herdduring the morning, and on hearing we had, got up and asked McCann tolet him see our axe. This he gave a critical examination, before hemounted his horse to go, and on leaving said,--
"If your foreman don't want to help build a bridge, I want to borrowthat axe of yours. But you fellows talk to him. If any of you boys hasever been over on the Chisholm trail, you will remember the bridge onRush Creek, south of the Washita River. I built that bridge in a daywith an outfit of ten men. Why, shucks! if these outfits would pulltogether, we could cross to-morrow evening. Lots of these old foremendon't like to listen to a cub like me, but, holy snakes! I've beenover the trail oftener than any of them. Why, when I wasn't big enoughto make a hand with the herd,--only ten years old,--in the days whenwe drove to Abilene, they used to send me in the lead with an oldcylinder gun to shoot at the buffalo and scare them off the trail. AndI've made the trip every year since. So you tell Flood when he comesin, that Pete Slaughter was here, and that he's going to build abridge, and would like to have him and his outfit help."
Had it not been for his youth and perpetual smile, we might have takenyoung Slaughter
more seriously, for both Quince Forrest and The Rebelremembered the bridge on Rush Creek over on the Chisholm. Still therewas an air of confident assurance in the young fellow; and the factthat he was the trusted foreman of Lum Slaughter, in charge of avaluable herd of cattle, carried weight with those who knew thatdrover. The most unwelcome thought in the project was that it requiredthe swinging of an axe to fell trees and to cut them into thenecessary lengths, and, as I have said before, the Texan never tookkindly to manual labor. But Priest looked favorably on the suggestion,and so enlisted my support, and even pointed out a spot where timberwas most abundant as a suitable place to build the bridge.
"Hell's fire," said Joe Stallings, with infinite contempt, "there'sthousands of places to build a bridge, and the timber's there, but theidea is to cut it." And his sentiments found a hearty approval in themajority of the outfit.
Flood returned late that evening, having ridden as far down the creekas the first settlement. The Rebel, somewhat antagonized by theattitude of the majority, reported the visit and message left for himby young Slaughter. Our foreman knew him by general reputation amongsttrail bosses, and when Priest vouched for him as the builder of theRush Creek bridge on the Chisholm trail, Flood said, "Why, I crossedmy herd four years ago on that Rush Creek bridge within a week afterit was built, and wondered who it could be that had the nerve toundertake that task. Rush isn't over half as wide a bayou as Boggy,but she's a true little sister to this miry slough. So he's going tobuild a bridge anyhow, is he?"
The next morning young Slaughter was at our camp before sunrise, andnever once mentioning his business or waiting for the formality of aninvitation, proceeded to pour out a tin cup of coffee and otherwiseprovide himself with a substantial breakfast. There was somethingamusing in the audacity of the fellow which all of us liked, though hewas fifteen years the junior of our foreman. McCann pointed out Floodto him, and taking his well-loaded plate, he went over and sat down byour foreman, and while he ate talked rapidly, to enlist our outfit inthe building of the bridge. During breakfast, the outfit listened tothe two bosses as they discussed the feasibility of theproject,--Slaughter enthusiastic, Flood reserved, and asking all sortsof questions as to the mode of procedure. Young Pete met everyquestion with promptness, and assured our foreman that the building ofbridges was his long suit. After breakfast, the two foremen rode offdown the creek together, and within half an hour Slaughter's wagon and_remuda_ pulled up within sight of the regular crossing, and shortlyafterwards our foreman returned, and ordered our wagon to pull down toa clump of cotton woods which grew about half a mile below our camp.Two men were detailed to look after our herd during the day, and theremainder of us returned with our foreman to the site selected for thebridge. On our arrival three axes were swinging against as manycottonwoods, and there was no doubt in any one's mind that we weregoing to be under a new foreman for that day at least. Slaughter had abig negro cook who swung an axe in a manner which bespoke him a jobfor the day, and McCann was instructed to provide dinner for the extraoutfit.
The site chosen for the bridge was a miry bottom over which oozedthree or four inches of water, where the width of the stream was aboutsixty feet, with solid banks on either side. To get a good foundationwas the most important matter, but the brush from the trees wouldsupply the material for that; and within an hour, brush began toarrive, dragged from the pommels of saddles, and was piled into thestream. About this time a call went out for a volunteer who coulddrive oxen, for the darky was too good an axeman to be recalled. As Ihad driven oxen as a boy, I was going to offer my services, when JoeStallings eagerly volunteered in order to avoid using an axe.Slaughter had some extra chain, and our four mules were pressed intoservice as an extra team in snaking logs. As McCann was to provide forthe inner man, the mule team fell to me; and putting my saddle on thenigh wheeler, I rode jauntily past Mr. Stallings as he trudgedalongside his two yoke of oxen.
About ten o'clock in the morning, George Jacklin, the foreman of theMillet herd, rode up with several of his men, and seeing the bridgetaking shape, turned in and assisted in dragging brush for thefoundation. By the time all hands knocked off for dinner, we had afoundation of brush twenty feet wide and four feet high, to saynothing about what had sunk in the mire. The logs were cut aboutfourteen feet long, and old Joe and I had snaked them up as fast asthe axemen could get them ready. Jacklin returned to his wagon fordinner and a change of horses, though Slaughter, with plenty ofassurance, had invited him to eat with us, and when he declined hadremarked, with no less confidence, "Well, then, you'll be back rightafter dinner. And say, bring all the men you can spare; and if you'vegot any gunny sacks or old tarpaulins, bring them; and by all meansdon't forget your spade."
Pete Slaughter was a harsh master, considering he was workingvolunteer labor; but then we all felt a common interest in the bridge,for if Slaughter's beeves could cross, ours could, and so couldMillet's. All the men dragging brush changed horses during dinner, forthere was to be no pause in piling in a good foundation as long as thematerial was at hand. Jacklin and his outfit returned, ten strong, andwith thirty men at work, the bridge grew. They began laying the logson the brush after dinner, and the work of sodding the bridge wentforward at the same time. The bridge stood about two feet above thewater in the creek, but when near the middle of the stream wasreached, the foundation gave way, and for an hour ten horses were keptbusy dragging brush to fill that sink hole until it would bear theweight of the logs. We had used all the acceptable timber on our sideof the stream for half a mile either way, and yet there were notenough logs to complete the bridge. When we lacked only some ten ortwelve logs, Slaughter had the boys sod a narrow strip across theremaining brush, and the horsemen led their mounts across to thefarther side. Then the axemen crossed, felled the nearest trees, andthe last logs were dragged up from the pommels of our saddles.
It now only remained to sod over and dirt the bridge thoroughly. Withonly three spades the work was slow, but we cut sod with axes, andafter several hours' work had it finished. The two yoke of oxen weredriven across and back for a test, and the bridge stood it nobly.Slaughter then brought up his _remuda_, and while the work of dirtingthe bridge was still going on, crossed and recrossed his band ofsaddle horses twenty times. When the bridge looked completed to everyone else, young Pete advised laying stringers across on either side;so a number of small trees were felled and guard rails strung acrossthe ends of the logs and staked. Then more dirt was carried in ontarpaulins and in gunny sacks, and every chink and crevice filled withsod and dirt. It was now getting rather late in the afternoon, butduring the finishing touches, young Slaughter had dispatched hisoutfit to bring up his herd; and at the same time Flood had sent anumber of our outfit to bring up our cattle. Now Slaughter and therest of us took the oxen, which we had unyoked, and went out about aquarter of a mile to meet his herd coming up. Turning the oxen in thelead, young Pete took one point and Flood the other, and pointed inthe lead cattle for the bridge. On reaching it the cattle hesitatedfor a moment, and it looked as though they were going to balk, butfinally one of the oxen took the lead, and they began to cross inalmost Indian file. They were big four and five year old beeves, andtoo many of them on the bridge at one time might have sunk it, butSlaughter rode back down the line of cattle and called to the men tohold them back.
"Don't crowd the cattle," he shouted. "Give them all the time theywant. We're in no hurry now; there's lots of time."
They were a full half hour in crossing, the chain of cattle taking thebridge never for a moment being broken. Once all were over, his menrode to the lead and turned the herd up Boggy, in order to have itwell out of the way of ours, which were then looming up in sight.Slaughter asked Flood if he wanted the oxen; and as our cattle hadnever seen a bridge in their lives, the foreman decided to use them;so we brought them back and met the herd, now strung out nearly amile. Our cattle were naturally wild, but we turned the oxen in thelead, and the two bosses again taking the points, moved the herd up tothe bridge. The oxen were aga
in slow to lead out in crossing, andseveral hundred head of cattle had congested in front of the newbridge, making us all rather nervous, when a big white ox led off, hismate following, and the herd began timidly to follow. Our cattlerequired careful handling, and not a word was spoken as we nursed themforward, or rode through them to scatter large bunches. A number oftimes we cut the train of cattle off entirely, as they were congestingat the bridge entrance, and, in crossing, shied and crowded so thatseveral were forced off the bridge into the mire. Our herd crossed inconsiderably less time than did Slaughter's beeves, but we had fivehead to pull out; this, however, was considered nothing, as they werelight, and the mire was as thin as soup. Our wagon and saddle horsescrossed while we were pulling out the bogged cattle, and about halfthe outfit, taking the herd, drifted them forward towards the Solomon.Since Millet intended crossing that evening, herds were likely to betoo thick for safety at night. The sun was hardly an hour high whenthe last herd came up to cross. The oxen were put in the lead, as withours, and all four of the oxen took the bridge, but when the cattlereached the bridge, they made a decided balk and refused to follow theoxen. Not a hoof of the herd would even set foot on the bridge. Theoxen were brought back several times, but in spite of all coaxing andnursing, and our best endeavors and devices, they would not risk it.We worked with them until dusk, when all three of the foremen decidedit was useless to try longer, but both Slaughter and Flood promised tobring back part of their outfits in the morning and make anothereffort.
McCann's camp-fire piloted us to our wagon, at least three miles fromthe bridge, for he had laid in a good supply of wood during the day;and on our arrival our night horses were tied up, and everything madeready for the night. The next morning we started the herd, but Floodtook four of us with him and went back to Big Boggy. The Millet herdwas nearly two miles back from the bridge, where we found Slaughter atJacklin's wagon; and several more of his men were, we learned, comingover with the oxen at about ten o'clock. That hour was considered soonenough by the bosses, as the heat of the day would be on the herd bythat time, which would make them lazy. When the oxen arrived at thebridge, we rode out twenty strong and lined the cattle up for anothertrial. They had grazed until they were full and sleepy, but the memoryof some of them was too vivid of the hours they had spent in the slimyooze of Big Boggy once on a time, and they began milling on sight ofthe stream. We took them back and brought them up a second time withthe same results. We then brought them around in a circle a mile indiameter, and as the rear end of the herd was passing, we turned thelast hundred, and throwing the oxen into their lead, started them forthe bridge; but they too sulked and would have none of it. It was nowhigh noon, so we turned the herd and allowed them to graze back whilewe went to dinner. Millet's foreman was rather discouraged with theoutlook, but Slaughter said they must be crossed if he had to lay overa week and help. After dinner, Jacklin asked us if we wanted a changeof horses, and as we could see a twenty mile ride ahead of us inovertaking our herd, Flood accepted.
When all was ready to start, Slaughter made a suggestion. "Let's goout," he said, "and bring them up slowly in a solid body, and when weget them opposite the bridge, round them in gradually as if we weregoing to bed them down. I'll take a long lariat to my white wheeler,and when they have quieted down perfectly, I'll lead old Blancothrough them and across the bridge, and possibly they'll follow.There's no use crowding them, for that only excites them, and if youever start them milling, the jig's up. They're nice, gentle cattle,but they've been balked once and they haven't forgotten it."
What we needed right then was a leader, for we were all ready to catchat a straw, and Slaughter's suggestion was welcome, for he hadestablished himself in our good graces until we preferred him toeither of the other foremen as a leader. Riding out to the herd, whichwere lying down, we roused and started them back towards Boggy. Whiledrifting them back, we covered a front a quarter of a mile in width,and as we neared the bridge we gave them perfect freedom. Slaughterhad caught out his white ox, and we gradually worked them into a body,covering perhaps ten acres, in front of the bridge. Several smallbunches attempted to mill, but some of us rode in and split them up,and after about half an hour's wait, they quieted down. Then Slaughterrode in whistling and leading his white ox at the end of a thirty-fivefoot lariat, and as he rode through them they were so logy that he hadto quirt them out of the way. When he came to the bridge, he stoppedthe white wheeler until everything had quieted down; then he led oldBlanco on again, but giving him all the time he needed and stoppingevery few feet. We held our breath, as one or two of the herd startedto follow him, but they shied and turned back, and our hopes of themoment were crushed. Slaughter detained the ox on the bridge forseveral minutes, but seeing it was useless, he dismounted and drovehim back into the herd. Again and again he tried the same ruse, but itwas of no avail. Then we threw the herd back about half a mile, and onFlood's suggestion cut off possibly two hundred head, a bunch whichwith our numbers we ought to handle readily in spite of their will,and by putting their _remuda_ of over a hundred saddle horses in theimmediate lead, made the experiment of forcing them. We took thesaddle horses down and crossed and recrossed the bridge several timeswith them, and as the cattle came up turned the horses into the leadand headed for the bridge. With a cordon of twenty riders around them,no animal could turn back, and the horses crossed the bridge on atrot, but the cattle turned tail and positively refused to haveanything to do with it. We held them like a block in a vise, socompactly that they could not even mill, but they would not cross thebridge.
When it became evident that it was a fruitless effort, Jacklin,usually a very quiet man, gave vent to a fit of profanity which wouldhave put the army in Flanders to shame. Slaughter, somewhat to ouramusement, reproved him: "Don't fret, man; this is nothing,--I balkeda herd once in crossing a railroad track, and after trying for twodays to cross them, had to drive ten miles and put them under aculvert. You want to cultivate patience, young fellow, when you'rehandling dumb brutes."
If Slaughter's darky cook had been thereabouts then, and suggested ameans of getting that herd to take the bridge, his suggestion wouldhave been welcomed, for the bosses were at their wits' ends. Jacklinswore that he would bed that herd at the entrance, and hold them thereuntil they starved to death or crossed, before he would let an animalturn back. But cooler heads were present, and The Rebel mentioned acertain adage, to the effect that when a bird or a girl, he didn'tknow which, could sing and wouldn't, she or it ought to be made tosing. He suggested that we hold the four oxen on the bridge, cut offfifteen head of cattle, and give them such a running start, theywouldn't know which end their heads were on when they reached thebridge. Millet's foreman approved of the idea, for he was nursing hiswrath. The four oxen were accordingly cut out, and Slaughter and oneof his men, taking them, started for the bridge with instructions tohold them on the middle. The rest of us took about a dozen head oflight cattle, brought them within a hundred yards of the bridge, thenwith a yell started them on a run from which they could not turn back.They struck the entrance squarely, and we had our first cattle on thebridge. Two men held the entrance, and we brought up another bunch inthe same manner, which filled the bridge. Now, we thought, if the herdcould be brought up slowly, and this bridgeful let off in their lead,they might follow. To June a herd of cattle across in this mannerwould have been shameful, and the foreman of the herd knew it as wellas any one present; but no one protested, so we left men to hold theentrance securely and went back after the herd. When we got themwithin a quarter of a mile of the creek, we cut off about two hundredhead of the leaders and brought them around to the rear, for amongstthese leaders were certain to be the ones which had been bogged, andwe wanted to have new leaders in this trial. Slaughter was on thefarther end of the bridge, and could be depended on to let the oxenlead off at the opportune moment. We brought them up cautiously, andwhen the herd came within a few rods of the creek the cattle on thebridge lowed to their mates in the herd, and Slaughter, consideringthe tim
e favorable, opened out and allowed them to leave the bridge onthe farther side. As soon as the cattle started leaving on the fartherside, we dropped back, and the leaders of the herd to the number of adozen, after smelling the fresh dirt and seeing the others crossing,walked cautiously up on the bridge. It was a moment of extremeanxiety. None of us spoke a word, but the cattle crowding off thebridge at the farther end set it vibrating. That was enough: theyturned as if panic-stricken and rushed back to the body of the herd. Iwas almost afraid to look at Jacklin. He could scarcely speak, but herode over to me, ashen with rage, and kept repeating, "Well, wouldn'tthat beat hell!"
Slaughter rode back across the bridge, and the men came up andgathered around Jacklin. We seemed to have run the full length of ourrope. No one even had a suggestion to offer, and if any one had had,it needed to be a plausible one to find approval, for hope seemed tohave vanished. While discussing the situation, a one-eyed, pox-markedfellow belonging to Slaughter's outfit galloped up from the rear, andsaid almost breathlessly, "Say, fellows, I see a cow and calf in theherd. Let's rope the calf, and the cow is sure to follow. Get the ropearound the calf's neck, and when it chokes him, he's liable to bellow,and that will call the steers. And if you never let up on the chokingtill you get on the other side of the bridge, I think it'll work.Let's try it, anyhow."
We all approved, for we knew that next to the smell of blood, nothingwill stir range cattle like the bellowing of a calf. At the meresuggestion, Jacklin's men scattered into the herd, and within a fewminutes we had a rope round the neck of the calf. As the roper camethrough the herd leading the calf, the frantic mother followed, with atrain of excited steers at her heels. And as the calf was draggedbellowing across the bridge, it was followed by excited, strugglingsteers who never knew whether they were walking on a bridge or on_terra firma_. The excitement spread through the herd, and theythickened around the entrance until it was necessary to hold themback, and only let enough pass to keep the chain unbroken.
They were nearly a half hour in crossing, for it was fully as large aherd as ours; and when the last animal had crossed, Pete Slaughterstood up in his stirrups and led the long yell. The sun went down thatday on nobody's wrath, for Jacklin was so tickled that he offered tokill the fattest beef in his herd if we would stay overnight with him.All three of the herds were now over, but had not this herd balked onus the evening before, over nine thousand cattle would have crossedSlaughter's bridge the day it was built.
It was now late in the evening, and as we had to wait some little timeto get our own horses, we stayed for supper. It was dark before we setout to overtake the herd, but the trail was plain, and letting ourhorses take their own time, we jollied along until after midnight. Wemight have missed the camp, but, by the merest chance, Priest sightedour camp-fire a mile off the trail, though it had burned to embers. Onreaching camp, we changed saddles to our night horses, and, callingOfficer, were ready for our watch. We were expecting the men on guardto call us any minute, and while Priest was explaining to Officer thetrouble we had had in crossing the Millet herd, I dozed off to sleepthere as I sat by the rekindled embers. In that minute's sleep my mindwandered in a dream to my home on the San Antonio River, but the nextmoment I was aroused to the demands of the hour by The Rebel shakingme and saying,--"Wake up, Tom, and take a new hold. They're calling uson guard. If you expect to follow the trail, son, you must learn to doyour sleeping in the winter."