On
the snow there form no shadows by which you can recognize
the trail in a light that comes from between the two
tracks. So I hurried along.
We had not yet made the first three miles, skirting
meanwhile the river, when the first disaster came. I
noticed a rather formidable drift on the road straight
ahead. I thought I saw a trail leading up over it--I
found later on that it was a snowshoe trail. I drove
briskly up to its very edge; then the horses fell into
a walk. In a gingerly kind of way we started to climb.
And suddenly the world seemed to fall to pieces. The
horses disappeared in the snow, the cutter settled down,
there was a sharp snap, I fell back--the lines had broken.
With lightning quickness I reached over the dashboard
down to the whiffletrees and unhooked one each of the
horses' traces. That would release the others, too, should
they plunge. For the moment I did not know what they were
doing. There was a cloud of dust dry snow which hid them.
Then Peter emerged. I saw with horror that he stood on
Dan who was lying on his side. Dan started to roll over;
Peter slipped off to the right.
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