“Two–o–o!” cried Walter, so glad when he could count off a single pole. They trudged through the snow, pushing the sleigh, pulling Kitty forward, calling out at intervals, “Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight!”
“Look, father! See those men!”
“I notice. I wonder what they are doing!”
Two men, a little distance ahead, ran out of the woods dragging a long piece of timber.
“I guess they’re going to fix the telegraph wire, Walter. The storm broke down some of the wires.”
The men dropped the long timber directly across the road and then darted into the woods again.
“That’s cool, Walter! What do they want to drop that in our path for?” The men were now back again, sticking forked branches in the snow; and they then laid the timber in the forks.
“Can’t we go through?” asked Mr. Plympton in a somewhat provoked tone.
“I wouldn’t advise you to, Cap’n,” replied one of the men who wore a red woolen jacket. “You see the snow up ’long, is piled higher than your horse’s back. We know, ’cause we’ve been breakin’ out the road; but the snow does blow in wuss than pizen, and we concluded to quit until the wind quits. Where you goin’, Cap’n?”
“Down to the life saving station.”