lucky," whispered Miss Burroughs, "that I happened to think
about the bells. We don't make any noise at all."

This was true. The slowly uplifted hoofs of the horse descended
quietly into the soft snow, and the sleigh-runners slipped along
without a sound.

"Drive straight for the gate, doctor," whispered Uncle Beamish. "It
don't matter nothin' about goin' over flower-beds and grass-plats in
such weather."

I followed his advice, for no roadway could be seen. But we had gone
but a short distance when the horse suddenly stopped.

"What's the matter?" asked Miss Burroughs, in a low voice. "Is it too
deep for him?"

"We're in a drift," said Uncle Beamish. "But it's not too deep. Make
him go ahead, doctor."

I clicked gently and tapped the horse with the whip, but he did not
move.

"What a dreadful thing," whispered Miss Burroughs, leaning forward,
"for him to stop so near the house! Dr. Glover, what does this mean?"
And, as she spoke, she half rose behind me. "Where did Sir Rohan come
from?"

"Who's he?" asked Uncle Beamish, quickly.

"That horse," she answered. "That's my aunt's horse. She sold him a
few days ago."

"By George!" ejaculated Uncle Beamish, unconsciously raising his voice
a little. "Wilson bought him, and his bringin' us here is as plain as
A B C. And now he don't want to leave home."

"But he has got to do it," said I, jerking the horse's head to one side
and giving him a cut with the whip.

"Don't whip him," whispered Miss Burroughs; "it always makes him more
stubborn. How glad I am I thought of the bells! The only way to get
him to go is to mollify him."

"But how is that to be done?" I asked anxiously.

"You must give him sugar and pat his neck. If I had some sugar and
could get out--"

"But you haven't it, and you can't git out," said Uncle Beamish. "Try
him again doctor!"

I jerked the reins impatiently. "Go along!" said I. But he did not go
along.

"Haven't you got somethin' in your medicine-case you could mollify him
with?" said Uncle Beamish. "Somethin' sweet that he might like?"

For an instant I caught at this absurd suggestion, and my mind ran over
the contents of my little bottles. If I had known his character, some
sodium bromide in his morning feed might, by this time, have mollified
his obstinacy.

"If I could be free of this blanket," said I, fumbling at the pin
behind me, "I would get out and lead him into the road."

"You could not do it,"