"The snow is going—it's easier walking," he said suddenly.
They closed together, and struggled along abreast. They were too nearly dead to notice that the going was good. Suddenly John fell into the soft snow, and Hugh, exerting his worn powers, dragged him back.
"The trail, the trail," gasped John, with his face close to Hugh's.
"Trail! we ain't been on any trail for hours."
"Feel with your feet!"
Hugh stopped to feel with his feet two runner tracks of horse sled. Hope came to them, made a great call to their resources. Meanwhile their tired hearts and very weary bodies endured the bombardment of the snow-laden wind, which seemed to penetrate them, taking the heat of life from their vitals!
They came to another lake. How the wind cut! The snow, driven over the surface of the ice, gave a hard, grinding noise. Would ever they come to the end of that pitiless journey!
Bang! They stumbled against a sleigh standing in the middle of the road. Hugh kicked at it; the singletree rattled; he recognized the sound. He gave a desperate shout; another and another.
Then, at last, the promise of relief and of life came to them. They smelt smoke. Just for a second!—that creosotic odour was to them as sweetest perfume. It meant life, warmth, comfort, human companionship.
The figure of a man with a lantern loomed up before them, and a deep voice asked,