Rearward they could scarcely mark the roadbed, so drifted over was it. Fences and other landmarks were completely buried. The bending telegraph poles, weighted by the pull of snow-laden wires, was all that marked the right of way through the glen.
"What a sight!" gasped Betty. "Oh, Bobby! did you ever see anything so glorious?"
"I never saw so much snow, if that is what you mean," admitted the Virginia girl. "And I am not sure that I really approve of it."
But Bobby laughed. She had to admit it was a great sight. It was now mid-afternoon and all they could see of the sun was a round, hazy ball behind the misty clouds, well down toward the western horizon which they could see through the mouth of this cut, or valley between the hills. At first they beheld not a moving object on the white waste.
"It is almost solemn," pursued Betty, who possessed a keen delight in all manifestations of nature.
"It looks mighty solemn, I admit," agreed Bobby. "Especially when you remember that anything to eat is three miles away and the drifts are nobody knows how many feet deep."
Betty laughed. She was about to say something cheerful in reply when a sudden sound smote upon their ears—a sound that startled the two girls. Somewhere from over the verge of the high bank of the cut on their left hand sounded a long-drawn and perfectly blood-curdling howl!
"For goodness' sake!" gasped Bobby, grabbing her friend by the arm. "What sort of creature is that? Hear it?"
"Of course I hear it," replied Betty, rather sharply. "Do you think I am deaf?"
Only a very deaf person could have missed hearing that mournful howl. It drew nearer.