“What do you think it is, Wash, a blizzard?” questioned Roger.
“Dat’s jest what dis is, boss. And my opinion is it’s gwine to be a heap sight wo’se before it gits bettah,” added the driver.
“I guess you’re right there,” answered Dave. “And that’s one reason I think we ought to try to get back to Crumville. But just the same, I’d hate to get stuck somewhere along the road, as he says. We boys might be able to get out of it along with Wash, but we couldn’t expect the girls to do any tramping in such deep snow and in such a wind.”
There was an old-fashioned covered walk from the hotel to the stables, so that the boys in going from one place to the other had not had to expose themselves to the elements. Now, to get an idea of how bad the storm was, Dave walked out as far as the street, followed by his chums.
“Great Cæsar’s ghost!” puffed the senator’s son, as they stood where they could get the full benefit of the storm. “This is frightful, Dave! Why, it would be nothing short of suicide to try to go anywhere!”
“I––I––guess we h-had better g-go in and telephone that we c-c-can’t come!” panted Ben; and then lost no time in returning to the stable, followed by the others.
They had been outside less than five minutes, yet the fury of the blizzard had nearly taken their breath away.
“We won’t attempt it, Wash; so you can make arrangements to stay here to-night,” announced Dave. He turned to his chums. “Come on back to the hotel, and we will do what telephoning is necessary.”
They returned to the parlor, and there the situation was explained to the girls and to Dr. Renwick and his wife.