Then with a clamouring wind came the snow, blotting out all further vision of the tragedy ahead. It hurtled about them in fury, and they could see scarcely a yard in front of them. It was snow that was vastly different from the large soft flakes of more temperate zones—a wild rain of ice-like particles that, as it struck, stung intolerably, and which, driven in the wind, seemed like a solid sheet held up to veil the landscape. It swirled and drifted about them and drove in their faces as if directed by some malevolent fury. It closed their eyes, clogged their feet, stopped their breathing, and at the moment when it was most essential, made progress impossible. Dogs and men bowed to the storm, and after two minutes of lost endeavour in attempting to face it, the course was altered and they raced for the shore and the friendly shelter of the trees. When they reached it, breathless and gasping, they stood for a moment, whilst the storm shrieked among the tree-tops and drove its icy hail like small shot against the trunks. In the shelter of one of them, Stane, as his breath came back to him, swung his rifle off his shoulder, and began to strip from it the deer-hide covering. Jean Bènard saw him, and in order to make himself heard shouted to him.
"What you do, m'sieu?"
"I'm going after them, Jean. There's something badly wrong."
"Oui! But with zee storm, what can you do, m'sieu?"
"I can find that girl," he said. "Think, man, if she is bound to the sled—in this——"
"Oui! Oui! m'sieu, I understand, but——"
"I shall work my way in the cover of the trees till I reach the bluff. If the storm abates you will follow but do not pass the bluff. There will be shelter in the lee of it, and I will wait your coming there."
"Go, and God go with you, m'sieu; but do not forget zee rifles which were fired dere."
"I will keep them in mind," answered Stane, and then setting his face to the storm, he began to work his way along the edge of the wood.