Little
ripples ran through the bulging canvas. As yet I sat snug
and sheltered within, my left shoulder turned to the
weather, but soon I sighted dimly a curtain of trees that
ran at right angles to my road. Behind it there stood a
school building, and beyond that I should have to turn
south. I gave the horses a walk. I decided to give them
a walk of five minutes for every hour they trotted along.
We reached the corner that way and I started them up
again.
Instantly things changed. We met the wind at an angle of
about thirty degrees from the southeast. The air looked
thick ahead. I moved into the left-hand corner of the
seat, and though the full force of the wind did not strike
me there, the whirling snow did not respect my shelter.
It blew in slantways under the top, then described a
curve upward, and downward again, as if it were going to
settle on the right end of the back. But just before it
touched the back, it turned at a sharp angle and piled
on to my right side. A fair proportion of it reached my
face which soon became wet and then caked over with ice.
There was a sting to the flakes which made them rather
disagreeable.
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