Doubtless all my readers know how a country road that is
covered with from two to three feet of snow will look
when the trail is broken. There is a smooth expanse,
mostly somewhat hardened at the surface, and there are
two deep-cut tracks in it, each about ten to twelve inches
wide, sharply defined, with the snow at the bottom packed
down by the horses' feet and the runners of the respective
conveyances. So long as you have such a trail and horses
with road sense, you do not need to worry about your
directions, no matter how badly it may blow. Horses that
are used to travelling in the snow will never leave the
trail, for they dread nothing so much as breaking in on
the sides. This fact released my attention for other
things.
Now I thought again for a while of home, of how my wife
would be worrying, how even the little girl would be
infected by her nervousness--how she would ask, "Mamma,
is Daddy in ... now?" But I did not care to follow up
these thoughts too far. They made me feel too soft.
After that I just sat there for a while and looked ahead.
But I saw only the whirl, whirl, whirl of the snow slanting
across my field of vision.
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