"If the snow gets into my cracks, it will melt, and be just like rain," thought Racky as he swayed along. "Then I shall fall apart! Or I shall get the rheumatism, and creak worse, than when fat Grandma sits on me! Oh, dear! I almost wish I had not run away!"
He found that he could travel faster though, with the snow on the ground. For he would rock a little way, then suddenly stop, and he would slide ahead ten feet or more, just as children do on a slippery place.
"Well, there is something good in the snow, anyhow," said the chair to himself. "I can go very fast on it."
But it was getting colder, and the flakes were now so thick that Racky could hardly see more than a little distance in front of him. Once, after a slide, he bumped into an evergreen tree, whose thick branches were white with the crystal flakes.
"Whoa there!" exclaimed the tree. "Where are you going, chair?"
"Oh, excuse me!" murmured Racky. "I am so sorry! I didn't mean to bump into you. But I am running away, and the snow blinded me!"
"That is quite all right," sighed the evergreen tree, kindly. "I have often thought, myself, that I would like to run away. But I am rooted fast in the ground and must stay here forever. Tell me, is it nice to run away?"
"It was at first," answered Racky, "but I am not so sure about it, now. I have had some wonderful adventures, and I may have more. But just now the snow is sifting down my back and I fear—a-ker-choo!" he suddenly sneezed. "I fear I am catching a—ker-snitzio—I beg your pardon—I fear I am catching cold!"
"I am quite certain of it," said the tree. "But if you want shelter from the storm, rock yourself in beneath my thick branches."
"Thank you, I will," said Racky, noticing that the low-hanging boughs of the evergreen tree made a sort of tent.