Such was the condition of affairs that called forth the exclamation reported at the beginning of this story.
However, there was nothing to gain by delay, so hardly waiting to snatch a bite of food and to allow their horses to finish their portion of oats, they harnessed up and drove forth into the storm.
Even had the track been easily distinguishable, they could not have made rapid progress, for the snow came in big, blinding flakes that were very bewildering, and had already covered the ground to a depth of nearly a foot.
By the aid of familiar landmarks, Mr. Maynard was able for a time to direct their course accurately enough; but about mid-day they reached a wide lake which they had to cross, and here their real difficulties began.
The broad expanse of Loon Lake had presented a fine playground for the wind, and upon it the snow was heaped in vast drifts, far surpassing anything met with in the woods, where the trees afforded protection.
In these drifts the horses and sleigh soon stuck so fast that their extrication was evidently quite beyond the power of the passengers.
There seemed no alternative but to abandon them to their fate, and to continue the journey on snow-shoes, which, fortunately, were lashed to the back of the sleigh.
Mr. Maynard felt sorely reluctant to desert his faithful horses, but no time could be spared for unavailing regrets.
"There's no help for it, Harry," he said resolutely. "We'll have to leave them where they are. We cannot get them out, and we've enough to do to look after ourselves."
The poor creatures whinnied appealingly as their human companions moved off, and made frantic efforts to follow, but the remorseless snow-drift held them fast.