table. Old Doctor was quite out of the
wind in a cave of snow and nickering for his breakfast. There was plenty
for him, but we were on short rations. Uncle Eb put on the snow shoes,
after we had eaten what there was left, and, cautioning us to keep in,
set out for Fadden's across lots. He came back inside of an hour with a
good supply of provisions in a basket on his shoulder. The wind had gone
down and the air was milder. Big flakes of snow came fluttering slowly
downward out of a dark sky. After dinner we went up on top of the
sledgehouse and saw a big scraper coming in the valley below. Six teams
of oxen were drawing it, and we could see the flying furrows on either
side of the scraper as it ploughed in the deep drifts. Uncle Eb put on
the snow shoes again, and, with Hope on his back and me clinging to his
hand, he went down to meet them and to tell of our plight. The front
team had wallowed to their ears, and the men were digging them out with
shovels when we got to the scraper. A score of men and boys clung to the
sides of that big, hollow wedge, and put their weight on it as the oxen
pulled. We got on with the others, I remember, and I was swept off as
soon as the scraper started by a roaring avalanche of snow that came
down upon our heads and buried me completely. I was up again and had
a fresh hold in a jiffy, and clung to my place until I was nearly
smothered by the flying snow. It was great fun for me, and they were
all shouting and hallooing as if it were a fine holiday. They made slow
progress, however, and we left them shortly on their promise to try to
reach us before night. If they failed to get through, one of them
said he would drive over to Paradise Valley, if possible, and tell the
Browers we were all right.

On our return, Uncle Eb began shoveling a tunnel in the cut. When we got
through to the open late in the afternoon we saw the scraper party going
back with their teams.

'Guess they've gi'n up fer t'day,' said he. 'Snow's powerful deep down
there below the bridge. Mebbe we can get 'round to where the road's
clear by goin' 'cross lots. I've a good mind t' try it.'

Then he went over in the field and picked a winding way down the hill
toward the river, while we children stood watching him. He came back
soon and took down a bit of the fence and harnessed Old Doctor and
hitched him to the sledgehouse. The tunnel was just wide enough to let
us through with a tight pinch here and there. The footing