“Something has gone wrong,” Clavering said gravely. “I’m afraid I’ll have to get down.”
He stood for several minutes looking at the frame of the sleigh and an indented line ploughed behind it in the snow, and then quietly commenced to loose the horses.
“Well,” said Hetty sharply, “what are you going to do?”
“Take them out,” said Clavering.
“Why?”
Clavering laughed. “They are not elephants and have been doing rather more than one could expect any horse to do. It is really not my fault, you know, but one of the runners has broken, and the piece sticks into the snow.”
“Then, whatever are we to do?”
“I am afraid you and Miss Schuyler will have to ride on to Allonby’s. I can fix the furs so they’ll make some kind of saddle, and it can’t be more than eight miles or so.”
Miss Schuyler almost screamed. “I can’t,” she said.
“Don’t talk nonsense, Flo,” said Hetty. “You’ll just have to.”