As the sleigh dashed through the outskirts of Calford, on its way to the
south, there was not much doubt in the minds of any of its occupants as
to the prospects of the storm. The gusty, patchy wind, the sudden sweeps
of hissing, cutting snow, as it slithered up in a gray dust in the
moonlight, and lashed, with stinging force, into their faces, was a sure
herald of the coming "blizzard."

Bunning-Ford and Jacky occupied the front seat of the sleigh. The former
was driving the spanking team of blacks of which old "Poker" John was
justly proud. The sleigh was open, as in Canada all such sleighs are.
Mrs. Abbot and the doctor sat in a seat with their backs to Jacky and
her companion, and old John Allandale faced the wind in the back seat,
alone. Thirty-five miles the horses had to cover before the storm
thoroughly established itself, and "Lord" Bill was not a slow driver.

The figures of the travellers were hardly distinguishable so enwrapped
were they in beaver caps, buffalo coats and robes. Jacky, as she sat
silently beside her companion, might have been taken for an inanimate
bundle of furs, so lost was she within the ample folds of her buffalo.
But for the occasional turn of her head, as she measured with her eyes
the rising of the storm, she gave no sign of life.

"Lord" Bill seemed indifferent. His eyes were fixed upon the road ahead
and his hands, encased in fur mitts, were on the "lines" with a
tenacious grip. The horses needed no urging. They were high-mettled and
cold. The gushing quiver of their nostrils, as they drank in the crisp,
night air, had a comforting sound for the occupants of the sleigh.
Weather permitting, those beautiful "blacks" would do the distance in
under three hours.