He even
offered my horses water, which they drank eagerly enough. But he did not
offer bed and stable-room for the night; nor did he open the gate
for me, as I had hoped he would. I should have declined the night's
accommodation, but I should have been grateful for a helping hand at the
gate. I had to get out of my wraps to open it. And meanwhile I had been
getting out and in so often, that I did no longer even care to clean my
feet of snow; I simply pushed the heater aside so as to prevent it from
melting.

I "bundled in"--that word, borrowed from an angry lady, describes my
mood perhaps better than anything else I might say. And yet, though what
followed, was not exactly pleasure, my troubles were over for the day.
The horses, of course, still had a weary, weary time of it, but as soon
as we got back to our old trail--which we presently did--they knew the
road at least. I saw that the very moment we reached it by the way they
turned on to it and stepped out more briskly.

From this point on we had about eleven miles to make, and every step
of it was made at a walk. I cannot, of course say much about the road.
There was nothing for me to do except as best I could to fight the wind.
I got my tarpaulin out from under the seat and spread it over myself. I
verily believe I nodded repeatedly. It did not matter. I knew that the
horses would take me home, and since it was absolutely dark, I could
not have helped it had they lost their way. A few times, thinking that I
noticed an improvement in the road, I tried to speed the horses up; but
when Dan at last, in an attempt to respond, went down on his knees,
I gave it up. Sometimes we pitched and rolled again for a space, but
mostly things went quietly enough. The wind made a curious sound,
something between an infuriated whistle and the sibilant noise a man
makes when he draws his breath in sharply between his teeth.

I do not know how long we may have been going that way. But I remember
how at last suddenly and gradually I realized that there was a change in
our motion. Suddenly, I say--for the realization of the change came as a
surprise; probably I had been nodding, and I started up. Gradually--for
I believe it took me quite an appreciable time before I awoke to the
fact that the horses at last were trotting. It was a weary, slow,
jogging trot--but it electrified me, for I knew at once that we were on
our very last mile. I strained my eye-sight, but I could see no light
a