topics. Both host and hostess, that was easy to see, were bent
upon beguiling the hours of their rather dark-humored guest. But the
howling gale outside was stronger than their good intentions. It was not
very long before the conversation got around--reverted, so it seemed--to
stories of storms, of being lost, of nearly freezing. The boys were
sitting with wide and eager eyes, afraid they might be sent to bed
before the feast of yarns was over. I told one or two of my most
thrilling escapes, the host contributed a few more, and even the hostess
had had an experience, driving on top of a railroad track for several
miles, I believe, with a train, snowbound, behind her. I leaned over.
"Mrs. ----," I said, "do not try to dissuade me. I am sorry to say it,
but it is useless. I am bound to go." "Well," she said, "I wish you
would not." "Thanks," I replied and looked at my watch. It was two
o'clock. "There is only one thing wrong with coming to have tea in this
home," I continued and smiled; "it is so hard to say good-bye."

I carefully lighted my lantern and got into my wraps. The wind was
howling dismally outside. For a moment we stood in the hall, shaking
hands and paying the usual compliments; then one of the boys opened the
door for me; and in stepping out I had one of the greatest surprises.
Not far from the western edge of the world there stood the setting
half-moon in a cloudless sky; myriads of stars were dusted over the
vast, dark blue expanse, twinkling and blazing at their liveliest. And
though the wind still whistled and shrieked and rattled, no snow came
down, and not much seemed to drift. I pointed to the sky, smiled, nodded
and closed the door. As far as the drifting of the snow went, I was
mistaken, as I found out when I turned to the north, into the less
sheltered street, past the post-office, hotel and stable. In front of
a store I stopped to read a thermometer which I had found halfways
reliable the year before. It read minus thirty-two degrees...

It was still dark, of course, when I left the house on Saturday morning
to be on my way. Also, it was cold, bitterly cold, but there was very
little wind. In crossing the bridge which was swept nearly clean of snow
I noticed a small, but somehow ominous-looking drift at the southern
end. It had such a disturbed, lashed-up appearance. The snow was
still loose, yet packed just hard enough to have a certain degree of
toughness. You could no longer swing your foot t