they might be right on us and not see
us."

"That's true--but there's no possible way of making one. We ought to
have candles and matches, and I'll see that we have--if we ever get
out of this," she added, in a lower tone.

After what seemed interminable hours, daylight began to creep through
the windows. It gave little hope, for the wind was strong as ever, and
nothing could be seen but a world of whirling, rushing, blinding snow.
And before it was fully light the children began to wake; soon they
were all awake and most of them crying with hunger and fright.

Then the scenes of the afternoon were repeated. The worn-out teacher
sang and told stories, and led in games till she was ready to drop
with exhaustion.

About noon a shout startled them, and Harry rushed to the door; indeed
all started for it in a mad rush, but Miss Grey ordered them back so
sternly that they obeyed.

In a moment the room was full of men--or were they some strange
snow-monsters?--clad in white from head to foot, and so disguised by
the snow that no child could know his own father.

With joy and relief, Miss Grey almost fainted, while the men, after
assuring themselves that all the children were safe, listened to
Harry's animated story of the terrible night, and then applauded Miss
Grey for her heroic labors.

She did not look heroic now, for she had sunk back in her chair almost
as white as the world outside the windows. When the weary men had
rested a little and warmed themselves, the children were wrapped up in
extra wraps the men had brought, and Miss Grey rallied and prepared to
set out on her fight for life, through the still raging storm.

They had made some sort of a path through the drifts as they came, and
though little signs of it were left, there was enough to guide these
hardy men used to such storms. Every man took his child in his arms
and all started out, Miss Grey under the care of her faithful Harry.

At first she clung to his arm, but the snow was everywhere; it filled
her eyes and took away her breath, the wind blew her skirts and
impeded her steps, and in her state of nervous exhaustion she was very
soon overcome. A dull stupor came over her, and, letting go her hold
on the arm of her protector, she sank down into the snow unconscious.

From that state she would never have roused but for the efforts of
Harry. There was not a moment to lose; the rest of the party were
almost out of sight, and to lose them would be