probably be the last time I draw a sleigh."

The broad, heavy-laden pine-boughs drooped wearily by the roadside, the
gleaming surface of the snow stretched in a monotonous sheet of white
between the trunks of the trees, the tops of the dark rocks beside the
way bore smooth white caps of loose snow, the forest stream was frozen
along the edges, only in the centre did the water trickle through
snow-crystals and sharp icicles to the valley.

So long as the moon shone, flickering rays danced and sparkled on the ice
and snow, but afterwards only the tedious glimmer of the universal
snow-pall lighted the traveller's way.

"If it would only snow!" repeated the charcoal-burner.

The higher they went, the deeper grew the snow, the more wearisome the
wading and climbing.

Often, on the doctor's account, the smith called in a low voice, "Halt!"
and then Costa approached the sleigh and asked: "How do you feel?" or
said: "We are getting on bravely."

Rahel screamed whenever a fox barked in the distance, a wolf howled, or
an owl flew through the treetops, brushing the snow from the branches
with its wings; but the others also started. Marx alone walked quietly
and undisturbed beside his little horse's thick head; he was familiar
with all the voices of the forest.

It grew colder towards morning. Ruth woke and cried, and her father,
panting for breath, asked: "When shall we rest?"

"Behind the height; ten arrow-shots farther," replied the
charcoal-burner.

"Courage," whispered the smith. "Get on the sledge, doctor; we'll push."

But Costa shook his head, pointed to the panting horse, and dragged
himself onward.

The poacher must have sent his arrows in a strange curve, for one quarter
of an hour after another slipped by, and the top was not yet gained.
Meantime it grew lighter and lighter, and the charcoal-burner, with
increasing anxiety, ever and anon raised his head, and glanced aside. The
sky was covered with clouds-the light overhead grey, dim, and blended
with mist. The snow was still dazzling, though it no longer sparkled and
glittered, but covered every object with the dull whiteness of chalk.

Ulrich kept beside the sledge to push it. When Ruth heard him groan, she
stroked the hand that grasped the edges, this pleased him; and he smiled.

When they again stopped, this time on the crest of the ridge, Ulrich
noticed that the charcoal-burner was sniffing the air like a hound, and
asked:

"What is it, Marxle?"