"How'll we work it?" said Corry.
"Teams and sleds. It'll be a tough job, and the roads'll be pretty rough for a while."
"Corry," said Port, "how'll they do it,—cart the snow away?"
"Where'd they cart it to? You just wait and see."
They were all tired enough to go to bed early, but the first rays of daylight next morning saw them all rushing out again. Port felt a little stiff and sore, but he determined to do his part at road-breaking.
The snow lay pretty level in the roads, for the greater part; and you could see the top rails of the fences here and there, enough to go by.
A little after breakfast the wide gate was swung open, and then the deacon's hired man came down the lane, driving the black team at a sharp trot, with the wood-sleigh behind them.
Faster, faster, through the gate, and out into the snow, with a chorus of shouts to urge them on.
The spirited, powerful fellows reared and plunged and snorted; but before long they seemed almost disposed to call it fun, and enjoy it.
"Up the road first!" shouted the deacon. "We'll break that way till we get beyond Stebbins's."