thicker, and, what was worse, the wind changed, and blew them straight
into our faces. By the time we reached the foot of The Mountains it was
nearly dark, and snowing furiously. I never knew a storm come on faster.
'Twas a regular, old-fashioned, driving snow-storm, with the wind to the
eastward.

Margaret seemed noways down-hearted. But I feared she would suffer. I
shook the snow from the blanket and wrapped her in it. I drew it over
her head, pinned it under her chin, and tucked it all about her.

'Twas hard pulling for the old horse, but he did well. I felt uneasy,
thinking about the blind roads, which led nowhere but to wood-lots.
'Twas quite likely that the horse would turn into one of these, and if
he did, we should be taken into the very middle of the woods.

It seemed to me we were hours creeping on in the dark, right in the
teeth of the storm. 'Twas an awful night; terribly cold; seemed as if it
was window-glass beating against our faces.

By the time I judged we had reached the top of The Mountains, the wind
blew a hurricane. Powerful gusts came tearing through the trees,
whirling the snow upon us in great smothering heaps. The chaise was
full. My hands grew numb, and I began slapping them upon my knees.
Margaret threw off the blanket with a jerk, and seized the reins.

"Stupid!" said she, "to be sitting here wrapped up, letting you freeze!"

But the horse felt a woman's hand upon the reins, and stopped short.

I urged him on a few yards, but we were in a cleared place, and the snow