Without a word Stella followed him, and the little caravan struck into the teeth of the snow-laden wind, which was now blowing half a gale.
The wagon moved slowly through the snow, which was getting deeper every minute, and was like heavy sand.
Every few minutes Carl's voice could be heard, and Ted called back to him.
Ted was traveling entirely by instinct, for it was so dark that he could not see a foot in front of them.
So they struggled on for an hour, halting occasionally to give the horses a breathing spell, then drove obstinately forward again.
"We should have been at the ranch house long ago," shouted Ted at last, pulling in his panting horse.
"Then we're lost, I suppose," shouted Stella in return.
"Looks that way."
"What are you going to do?"
"Stop for the rest of the night."