man being had
sought shelter here for many a winter.

Old Rahel uttered a fresh wail of grief, when she saw this shelter; but
after the men had removed the snow as well as they could, and covered
the holes in the roof with pine-branches; when Adam had lighted a fire,
and the sacks and coverlets were brought in from the sledge, and laid on
a dry spot to furnish seats for the women, fresh courage entered their
hearts, and Rahel, unasked, dragged herself to the hearth, and set the
snow-filled pot on the fire.

"The nag must have two hours' rest," Marx said, "then they could push on
and reach the miller in the ravine before night. There they would find
kind friends, for Jacklein had been with him among the 'peasants.'"
The snow-water boiled, the doctor and his wife rested, Ulrich and
Ruth brought wood, which the smith had split, to the fire to dry, when
suddenly a terrible cry of grief rang outside of the hut.

Costa hastily rose, the children followed, and old Rahel, whimpering,
drew the upper kerchief on her head over her face.

The little horse, its tiny legs stretched far apart, was lying in the
snow by the sledge. Beside it knelt Marx, holding the clumsy head on his
knee, and blowing with his crooked mouth into the animal's nostrils. The
creature showed its yellow teeth, and put out its bluish tongue as if
it wanted to lick him; then the heavy head fell, the dying animal's eyes
started from their sockets, its legs grew perfectly stiff, and this time
the horse was really dead, while the shafts of the sledge vainly thrust
themselves into the air, like the gaping mouth of a deserted bird.

No farther progress was possible. The women sat trembling in the hut,
roasting before the fire, and shivering when a draught touched them....
Ruth wept for the poor little horse, and Marx sat as if utterly crushed
beside his old friend's stiffening body, heeding nothing, least of all
the snow, which was making him whiter than the miller, with whom he had
expected to rest that evening. The doctor gazed in mute despair at his
dumb wife, who, with clasped hands, was praying fervently; the smith
pressed his hand upon his brow, vainly pondering over what was to be
done now, until his head ached; while, from the distance, echoed the
howl of a hungry wolf, and a pair of ravens alighted on a white bough
beside the little horse, gazing greedily at the corpse lying in the
snow.

Meantime, the abbot was sitting in his pleasantly-warmed study