"That clump of trees doesn't look natural just there," said one,
standing up in the sleigh and trying to peer through the wall of
snowflakes. "It's too near. It ought to be a hundred feet away."
"No. You're thinking we're farther back than We are," declared Neil
Ward, from the front seat. "We're almost at the turn by the railroad."
"Why, we can't be! We haven't passed the Winters farm. I tell you,
you're off the road."
"I think we are," agreed the driver, uneasily, pulling his cap farther
over his snow-hung eyebrows. "I've been thinking so for quite a spell."
"We're all right. You people just keep cool!" cried Neil.
"No trouble about keeping cool in this blizzard!" growled somebody, and
there was a general laugh.
One of the girls started a song, and they all joined cheerily in. A
proposition to toot the horns, forgotten in the bottom of the sleigh,
with a hope of attracting attention from some one, was adopted, and a
hideous din followed, and was kept up till every one was weary--with no
result.
All at once, without warning, the horses plunged heavily and solidly to
their steaming shoulders into an undreamed-of ditch, and the sleigh
stopped, well into the same hole.
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