sand in the faces of the travellers.

"I think we'll give it an hour, Bill. After that I guess it'll be too
thick," pursued the girl. "What d'you think, can we make Norton's in
that time--it's a good sixteen miles?"

"I'll put 'em at it," was her companion's curt response.

Neither spoke for a minute. Then "Lord" Bill bent his head suddenly
forward. The night was getting blacker and it was with difficulty that
he could keep his eyes from blinking under the lash of the whipping
snow.

"What is it?" asked Jacky, ever on the alert with the instinct of the
prairie.

"Some one just ahead of us. The track is badly broken in places. Sit
tight, I'm going to touch 'em up."

He flicked the whip over the horses' backs, and, a moment later, the
sleigh was flying along at a dangerous pace. The horses had broken into
a gallop.

"Lord" Bill seemed to liven up under the influence of speed. The wind
was howling now, and conversation was impossible, except in short, jerky
sentences. They were on the high level of the prairie and were getting
the full benefit of the open sweep of country.

"Cold?" Bill almost shouted.