"So do I!" cried Miss Dixon.
"You'll be lucky if you get in out of this storm," said Mr. Pertell reprovingly, "to say nothing about baggage. Do the best you can, Mr. Macksey."
"I will. Come now, men, lively!"
It took some little time to make the change, but finally the work was done.
The broken runner was cast aside, and there were now two good sleds, one ahead of the other in the snowy defile. As much of the needed baggage as possible was transferred, and the four horses that had been on the rear sled were brought up and hitched to the remaining sleds—two to each so that each conveyance now had six animals attached to it.
"And by hickory!" exclaimed Mr. Macksey, that appearing to be his favorite expression, "By hickory, we'll need 'em all!"
They were now ready to set forth, and all rather dreaded going out into the open again, for the defile offered a good shelter from the storm. But it had to be done, for it was out of the question to stay there all night.
"Go 'long!" called the hunter, as he shook the long reins of his six horses, and cracked the whip with a report like a pistol. But the lash did not fall on the backs of the ready animals. Mr. Macksey never beat his horses—they were willing enough without that.
Lanterns had been lighted and hung on the sleds, to shed their warning rays through the storm. They now gleamed fitfully through the fast-falling snow.
"Are you feeling better now, Daddy?" asked Ruth of her father, as she glanced anxiously at him.