Thus equipped, the two friends started on the twenty-sixth of February, and in the evening arrived at a little settlement, thirty miles from Hadley, where they passed the night. Leaving early the next morning, they hoped to reach Worcester in the evening, and they rode quietly most of the day, moving very slowly on account of the difficulties of the road, which was but slightly broken. The morning had been fine and clear, but towards noon the clouds came up, and the wind changed to northeast,—indicating one of those violent snow-storms which sometimes filled up the roads, and placed a long embargo on social intercourse. As the day declined, it began to snow, and James now urged his horse to his utmost speed, as they were far from any habitation, and there seemed no alternative, but either to get to Worcester, or perish in the woods. The snow was now falling thick and fast, with a high northeast wind directly in the faces of the travellers, and creating new obstacles to the already difficult road; the evening was at hand, and they were still ten miles from Worcester, and so violent was the storm, that it soon became evident they could not reach the settlement. In this dilemma, they hesitated for a moment, when James recollected a kind of shed he had seen on his way up, about a mile from their present position; and being assured that the only chance for their lives was in reaching that spot, they redoubled their efforts, James clearing the way with his shovel, and Henry leading the horse, the tempest meanwhile raging with the greatest violence.
The horse was now hardly able to keep his feet, having been jaded and exhausted by incessant toil, and they were still a quarter of a mile from the shed: at this moment they reached a high drift, which it seemed impossible to pass; and Henry, worn out with cold and fatigue, could no longer make the least effort. Lyford was now in the most alarming circumstances; he was himself greatly fatigued, and his strength could not much longer sustain him. He placed Henry in the sleigh, and covered him with blankets, while he returned to the snow-drift with his shovel, and in half an hour worked through. It was now dark, and the wind had fortunately blown the snow from the remainder of the road to the shed, which he reached, at last, nearly overcome by anxiety and fatigue. It was well they found a resting-place there, for just before them an immense snow-drift reared its white and impassable barrier, which the strength of twenty men could not sufficiently reduce, and there was no circuit by which it could be avoided.
The shed under which our travellers were now resting, was built of logs, and wholly open in front; it faced the south, and its roof, composed of lighter wood, sloped nearly to the ground. It was built merely to feed horses on their way, and furnish a convenient spot, where travellers might rest for an hour. In one corner was a rough chimney, made of stones, but there was no furniture of any description, and little shelter from rain when the wind was south; but it seemed to our travellers, in their forlorn condition, like a home of safety and rest. They were yet unable to tell what might befall them, but their first duty of devout thanksgiving to a kind and protecting Providence was immediately and gratefully performed.
The storm had now increased to a furious tempest; the wind roared among the trees, and its wild and startling echoes sounded from the valleys and rocks. Sometimes they came in the loud tones of thunder, and then in the rapid sweep of the whirlwind; and vast clouds of snow were driven along the open spaces, and piled in huge heaps near the open front of the shed, affording some additional shelter to its inmates. But the place was at best a cold and comfortless lodging: there was no wood for a fire, and only the dim candle of the lantern to afford them light. In these circumstances, Lyford made the best possible arrangements for the night: the sleigh was placed in a corner, two large blankets were extended before it and fastened to a pole, which was secured to a low beam that ran across the shed, and by a rude frame-work supported its roof. This contrivance furnished a kind of enclosure, which kept out the snow, and afforded a partial shelter for the horse as well as themselves. The poor animal, thoroughly exhausted, on being loosed from the harness, immediately laid himself down, and was covered by a blanket, and protected as far as possible from the storm. Lyford prepared a bed in the sleigh, of such materials as he could collect, and after taking some refreshment they covered themselves and went quietly to rest.
When the morning appeared, the storm was wild and fierce as ever. An immense quantity of snow had fallen, the atmosphere was filled with its driving masses, and there seemed no prospect of a favorable change. Lyford dug his way a few steps from the shed, but it was vain to contend with the furious elements, and he was glad to retreat to his forlorn shelter. By the light of day he discovered a quantity of broken wood and branches of trees, which afforded them the relief of a fire; and this was the more necessary, as the air was now excessively cold. A survey of their supplies followed, by which it appeared their corn and provisions were sufficient, with economy, for eight or ten days; the horse, however, it was necessary to keep on very short allowance, as there was little prospect that they could proceed on their journey for ten days at least.
On the third day the storm abated, and in the afternoon the sun came forth in his glory. Lyford succeeded in digging his way to a neighboring tree, and ascended to its topmost branches, where he beheld a vast and trackless expanse of snow, which had spread over hill and valley to an average depth of nearly three feet, but which in many places was piled like mountains, and seemed to defy all the power of man to break down its barriers and force a passage.
As Lyford descended from the tree, he saw a dark object on the snow, about a quarter of a mile distant, and in the direction of what appeared to be the road. It first seemed like the trunk of a tree, which had been burned to a coal, yet he soon perceived it had a slow motion towards him. His curiosity was strongly excited, and he gazed with increasing interest, until the outlines of a human figure were distinctly visible, as it dragged its slow pace through the heavy snow drifts towards Lyford. In about an hour from the time he was discovered, Pompey—for it was no other than he—stood before Lyford, who was extremely perplexed and surprised at his sudden appearance.
'Be this you, Massa James?' said Pompey. 'How came you up in dis tree, and among dese snow banks?'
'It will be time enough to ask these questions when I get out. But what brings you here, Pompey?'
'Come to find you, Massa. Went to Wooster first, but no Massa Lyford there—so I came all the way here. Will you tell me, Massa, where I get something to eat?'