had drifted. 'Twas no use. He was tired out.

"Take him out!" cried Margaret; "we can ride horseback."

I sprang out, knowing that no time should be lost. Margaret had not
complained. But I was chilled through. My feet were like blocks of wood.
I knew she must be half frozen. It seemed as if I never should do
anything with the tackling. My fingers were numb, and I could hardly
stand up, the wind blew so.

With the help of my jack-knife I cleared the horse. I rode him round to
the chaise, and took Margaret up in front of me, then let him take his
own course.

I asked Margaret if she was cold. She said, "Yes," in a whisper.
Throwing open the blanket had let in the snow upon her, and the sharp
wind. The horse floundered about in the drifts. Every minute I expected
to be thrown off. Time never seemed so long before.

All at once it occurred to me that Margaret was very quiet. I asked
again if she was cold. She said, "No; only sleepy." I knew in a minute
what that meant. That was a terrible moment. Freezing as I was, the
sweat started out at every pore. The pretty, delicate thing would die!
And I, great strong man, couldn't save her!

But I wouldn't despair. I made her talk. Kept asking her questions: If
the wind had not gone down? If she heard the surf upon the beach? If she
saw a light?

"Yes," said she at last,--"I see a light."