The next morning The Silver Cup had a cover, a beautiful clear cover of ice an eighth of an inch thick. The following morning the cover was a little thicker, and it thickened perceptibly every succeeding morning, until it would bear the weight of Phil or John. The trees were heavy with frost, and the wind sometimes blew so sharply from the mountain that they made rude ear-muffs of deerskin and helped out their clothing as skillfully as possible with skins and furs.
Then the snow came. Looking northward, they saw a whitish mist over the forest. The mist gradually turned to dark blue clouds hanging very low. The snow fell, at first, in slow, solemn flakes, and then swiftly. They filled the air, all the forest was hidden, and nothing marked the presence of The Silver Cup but the level expanse of the snow. It fell to the depth of six or seven inches, then the skies cleared away, became crystal blue, and the cold increased, promising no more snow for the present, but a long continuance of that which lay on the ground. They visited the horses the next morning and found them well protected in their valley. Large spaces there were but thinly covered with the snow, and the horses could easily get at the grass. Assured on this point, John and Breakstone returned to The Dip, while Phil and Arenberg, mounting the strongest two horses, rode northward.
CHAPTER XXI
THE NOTE OF A MELODY
Phil and Arenberg were undertaking this journey because they wished to make one of their usual thorough scouts. It merely happened to be their day, as John and Breakstone had gone on the day preceding. They were well wrapped up, with their ear-muffs on and with big moccasins that they had made to go over their shoes. The snow was very light and dry, and offered little obstacle to the horses, which were fat and strong with good feeding.
"We certainly leave a fine trail, Hans," said Phil, looking back at the impressions made by their horse's hoofs.
"It iss so," said Arenberg, "but since we hunt people it iss not our object to hide ourselves. Do you notice how beautiful iss the forest, Herr Philip? All the trees are white with the snow. It iss a great tracery, silver sometimes and gold sometimes as the sun falls, and it extends farther than we can see. It must often have been such as this in the great Teutonic forest where my ancestors dwelled thousands of years ago. Here in these woods I have this feeling at times, as if the centuries were rolled back, and last night I dreamed a strange dream."
"What was the dream?"
"I don't know. That was the strange part of it. I awoke and I knew that I had dreamed a strange dream which was not unpleasant, but, try as hard as I would, I could not remember anything about it. What do you think that portends, Herr Philip?"
"I do not know. Perhaps when we want a thing so much and think about it so much the imagination, while we are asleep and the will is dead, forms a picture of it that remains in our possession when we awake. But it's just surmise. I don't know anything about it."