Then came the storm, and then a Sunday and Monday in which no man went either way between the fort and town. And then a third, in which the gale went down, and the garrison first dug itself out, and then tunnelled in to the colonel's, the adjutant's office, and other submerged quarters, and on the morning of that third day Captain Sumter, in snow-covered furs, reported his return in person to his post commander, and explained that he had been storm-bound at the station in the meantime.
It was then barely nine o'clock. Guard mounting, the first held since Saturday, was just over. The morning reports, the first rendered since Saturday, were just in, and the staff and company officers for the first time since Saturday were beginning to gather at headquarters and to compare notes. All had much to tell. Stannard's wood-pile, Snaffle's storm-shed, and Barker's cow had blown away. Somebody had just reported Sumter's north dormer window "torn out by the roots," which moved Button to say:
"I hope your quarters sustained no damage in your absence."
"I do not know, sir, I came direct to the office to report."
"Ah, true; your household started before the storm."
"Only started, sir. They went no farther than the surgeon's quarters, where we learned the train was six hours late. I had—business—in town, and went on. They remained."
"Then the ladies have not gone East?"
"Neither they nor any one else, since early Saturday morning. The road is blocked."
"The paymaster, too? He went in right after luncheon."
"I cannot say, sir. I neither saw nor heard of him about the station. It is crowded with people. Three trains are stalled there, unable to go either way, and now—with your permission, colonel——"