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diff --git a/6111-h/6111-h.htm b/6111-h/6111-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c51d51e --- /dev/null +++ b/6111-h/6111-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5281 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Over Prairie Trails, by Frederick Philip Grove + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Over Prairie Trails, by Frederick Philip Grove + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Over Prairie Trails + +Author: Frederick Philip Grove + +Release Date: June 13, 2009 [EBook #6111] +Last Updated: November 7, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OVER PRAIRIE TRAILS *** + + + + +Produced by Gardner Buchanan, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + OVER PRAIRIE TRAILS + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Frederick Philip Grove + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> Introductory </a><br /> + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> ONE. </a> + </td> + <td> + Farms and Roads + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> TWO. </a> + </td> + <td> + Fog + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THREE. </a> + </td> + <td> + Dawn and Diamonds + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> FOUR. </a> + </td> + <td> + Snow + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> FIVE. </a> + </td> + <td> + Wind and Waves + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> SIX. </a> + </td> + <td> + A Call for Speed + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> SEVEN. </a> + </td> + <td> + Skies and Scares + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + Introductory + </h2> + <p> + A few years ago it so happened that my work—teaching school—kept + me during the week in a small country town in the centre of one of the + prairie provinces while my family—wife and little daughter—lived + in the southern fringe of the great northern timber expanse, not very far + from the western shore of a great lake. My wife—like the plucky + little woman she is—in order to round off my far-from-imperial + income had made up her mind to look after a rural school that boasted of + something like a residence. I procured a buggy and horse and went “home” + on Fridays, after school was over, to return to my town on Sunday evening—covering + thus, while the season was clement and allowed straight cross-country + driving, coming and going, a distance of sixty-eight miles. Beginning with + the second week of January this distance was raised to ninety miles + because, as my more patient readers will see, the straight cross-country + roads became impassable through snow. + </p> + <p> + These drives, the fastest of which was made in somewhat over four hours + and the longest of which took me nearly eleven—the rest of them + averaging pretty well up between the two extremes—soon became what + made my life worth living. I am naturally an outdoor creature—I have + lived for several years “on the tramp”—I love Nature more than Man—I + take to horses—horses take to me—so how could it have been + otherwise? Add to this that for various reasons my work just then was not + of the most pleasant kind—I disliked the town, the town disliked me, + the school board was sluggish and unprogressive, there was friction in the + staff—and who can wonder that on Fridays, at four o’clock, a real + holiday started for me: two days ahead with wife and child, and going and + coming—the drive. + </p> + <p> + I made thirty-six of these trips: seventy-two drives in all. I think I + could still rehearse every smallest incident of every single one of them. + With all their weirdness, with all their sometimes dangerous adventure—most + of them were made at night, and with hardly ever any regard being paid to + the weather or to the state of the roads—they stand out in the vast + array of memorable trifles that constitute the story of my life as among + the most memorable ones. Seven drives seem, as it were, lifted above the + mass of others as worthy to be described in some detail—as not too + trivial to detain for an hour or so a patient reader’s kind attention. Not + that the others lack in interest for myself; but there is little in them + of that mildly dramatic, stirring quality which might perhaps make their + recital deserving of being heard beyond my own frugal fireside. Strange to + say, only one of the seven is a return trip. I am afraid that the prospect + of going back to rather uncongenial work must have dulled my senses. Or + maybe, since I was returning over the same road after an interval of only + two days, I had exhausted on the way north whatever there was of + noticeable impressions to be garnered. Or again, since I was coming from + “home,” from the company of those for whom I lived and breathed, it might + just be that all my thoughts flew back with such an intensity that there + was no vitality left for the perception of the things immediately around + me. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ONE. Farms and Roads + </h2> + <p> + At ten minutes past four, of an evening late in September, I sat in the + buggy and swung out of the livery stable that boarded my horse. Peter, the + horse, was a chunky bay, not too large, nor too small; and I had stumbled + on to him through none of my sagacity. To tell the plain truth, I wanted + to get home, I had to have a horse that could stand the trip, no other + likely looking horse was offered, this one was—on a trial drive he + looked as if he might do, and so I bought him—no, not quite—I + arranged with the owner that I should make one complete trip with him and + pay a fee of five dollars in case I did not keep him. As the sequence + showed, I could not have found a better horse for the work in hand. + </p> + <p> + I turned on to the road leading north, crossed the bridge, and was between + the fields. I looked at my watch and began to time myself. The moon was + new and stood high in the western sky; the sun was sinking on the downward + stretch. It was a pleasant, warm fall day, and it promised an evening such + as I had wished for on my first drive out. Not a cloud showed anywhere. I + did not urge the horse; he made the first mile in seven, and a half + minutes, and I counted that good enough. + </p> + <p> + Then came the turn to the west; this new road was a correction line, and I + had to follow it for half a mile. There was no farmhouse on this short + bend. Then north for five miles. The road was as level as a table top—a + good, smooth, hard-beaten, age-mellowed prairie-grade. The land to east + and west was also level; binders were going and whirring their harvest + song. Nobody could have felt more contented than I did. There were two + clusters of buildings—substantial buildings—set far back from + the road, one east, the other one west, both clusters huddled homelike and + sheltered in bluffs of planted cottonwoods, straight rows of them, three, + four trees deep. My horse kept trotting leisurely along, the wheels kept + turning, a meadow lark called in a desultory way from a nearby fence post. + I was “on the go.” I had torn up my roots, as it were, I felt detached and + free; and if both these prosperous looking farms had been my property—I + believe, that moment a “Thank-you” would have bought them from me if + parting from them had been the price of the liberty to proceed. But, of + course, neither one of them ever could have been my property, for neither + by temperament nor by profession had I ever been given to the accumulation + of the wealth of this world. + </p> + <p> + A mile or so farther on there stood another group of farm buildings—this + one close to the road. An unpainted barn, a long and low, rather + ramshackle structure with sagging slidedoors that could no longer be + closed, stood in the rear of the farm yard. The dwelling in front of it + was a tall, boxlike two-story house, well painted in a rather loud green + with white door and window frames. The door in front, one window beside + it, two windows above, geometrically correct, and stiff and cold. The + house was the only green thing around, however. Not a tree, not a shrub, + not even a kitchen garden that I could see. I looked the place over + critically, while I drove by. Somehow I was convinced that a bachelor + owned it—a man who made this house—which was much too large + for him—his “bunk.” There it stood, slick and cold, unhospitable as + ever a house was. A house has its physiognomy as well as a man, for him + who can read it; and this one, notwithstanding its new and shining paint, + was sullen, morose, and nearly vicious and spiteful. I turned away. I + should not have cared to work for its owner. + </p> + <p> + Peter was trotting along. I do not know why on this first trip he never + showed the one of his two most prominent traits—his laziness. As I + found out later on, so long as I drove him single (he changed entirely in + this respect when he had a mate), he would have preferred to be hitched + behind, with me between the shafts pulling buggy and him. That was his + weakness, but in it there also lay his strength. As soon as I started to + dream or to be absorbed in the things around, he was sure to fall into the + slowest of walks. When then he heard the swish of the whip, he would start + with the worst of consciences, gallop away at breakneck speed, and slow + down only when he was sure the whip was safe in its socket. When we met a + team and pulled out on the side of the road, he would take it for granted + that I desired to make conversation. He stopped instantly, drew one + hindleg up, stood on three legs, and drooped his head as if he had come + from the ends of the world. Oh yes, he knew how to spare himself. But on + the other hand, when it came to a tight place, where only an extraordinary + effort would do, I had never driven a horse on which I could more + confidently rely. What any horse could do, he did. + </p> + <p> + About two miles beyond I came again to a cluster of buildings, close to + the corner of the crossroads, sheltered, homelike, inviting in a large + natural bluff of tall, dark-green poplars. Those first two houses had had + an aristocratic aloofness—I should not have liked to turn in there + for shelter or for help. But this was prosperous, open-handed, well-to-do + middle class; not that conspicuous “moneyedness” that we so often find in + our new west when people have made their success; but the solid, friendly, + everyday liberality that for generations has not had to pinch itself and + therefore has mellowed down to taking the necessities and a certain amount + of give and take for granted. I was glad when on closer approach I noticed + a school embedded in the shady green of the corner. I thought with + pleasure of children being so close to people with whom I should freely + have exchanged a friendly greeting and considered it a privilege. In my + mental vision I saw beeches and elms and walnut trees around a squire’s + place in the old country. + </p> + <p> + The road began to be lined with thickets of shrubs here: choke cherry + bushes, with some ripe, dried-up black berries left on the branches, with + iron-black bark, and with wiry stems, in the background; in front of them, + closer to the driveway, hawthorn, rich with red fruit; rosebushes with + scarlet leaves reaching down to nearly underfoot. It is one of the most + pleasing characteristics of our native thickets that they never rise + abruptly Always they shade off through cushionlike copses of smaller + growth into the level ground around. + </p> + <p> + The sun was sinking. I knew a mile or less further north I should have to + turn west in order to avoid rough roads straight ahead. That meant + doubling up, because some fifteen miles or so north I should have to turn + east again, my goal being east of my starting place. These fifteen or + sixteen miles of the northward road I did not know; so I was anxious to + make them while I could see. I looked at the moon—I could count on + some light from her for an hour or so after sundown. But although I knew + the last ten or twelve miles of my drive fairly well, I was also aware of + the fact that there were in it tricky spots—forkings of mere trails + in muskeg bush—where leaving the beaten log-track might mean as much + as being lost. So I looked at my watch again and shook the lines over + Peter’s back. The first six miles had taken me nearly fifty minutes. I + looked at the sun again, rather anxiously I could count on him for another + hour and a quarter—well and good then! + </p> + <p> + There was the turn. Just north of it, far back from both roads, another + farmyard. Behind it—to the north, stretched out, a long windbreak of + poplars, with a gap or a vista in its centre. Barn and outbuildings were + unpainted, the house white; a not unpleasing group, but something slovenly + about it. I saw with my mind’s eye numerous children, rather neglected, + uncared for, an overworked, sickly woman, a man who was bossy and harsh. + </p> + <p> + The road angles here. Bell’s farm consists of three quartersections; the + southwest quarter lends its diagonal for the trail. I had hardly made the + turn, however, when a car came to meet me. It stopped. The + school-inspector of the district looked out. I drew in and returned his + greeting, half annoyed at being thus delayed. But his very next word made + me sit up. He had that morning inspected my wife’s school and seen her and + my little girl; they were both as well as they could be. I felt so glad + that I got out of my buggy to hand him my pouch of tobacco, the which he + took readily enough. He praised my wife’s work, as no doubt he had reason + to do, and I should have given him a friendly slap on the shoulder, had + not just then my horse taken it into his head to walk away without me. + </p> + <p> + I believe I was whistling when I got back to the buggy seat. I know I + slapped the horse’s rump with my lines and sang out, “Get up, Peter, we + still have a matter of nearly thirty miles to make.” + </p> + <p> + The road becomes pretty much a mere trail here, a rut-track, smooth enough + in the rut, where the wheels ran, but rough for the horse’s feet in + between. + </p> + <p> + To the left I found the first untilled land. It stretched far away to the + west, overgrown with shrub-willow, wolf-willow and symphoricarpus—a + combination that is hard to break with the plow. I am fond of the silver + grey, leathery foliage of the wolf-willow which is so characteristic of + our native woods. Cinquefoil, too, the shrubby variety, I saw in great + numbers—another one of our native dwarf shrubs which, though decried + as a weed, should figure as a border plant in my millionaire’s park. + </p> + <p> + And as if to make my enjoyment of the evening’s drive supreme, I saw the + first flocks of my favourite bird, the goldfinch. All over this vast + expanse, which many would have called a waste, there were strings of them, + chasing each other in their wavy flight, twittering on the downward + stretch, darting in among the bushes, turning with incredible swiftness + and sureness of wing the shortest of curves about a branch, and undulating + away again to where they came from. + </p> + <p> + To the east I had, while pondering over the beautiful wilderness, passed a + fine bluff of stately poplars that stood like green gold in the evening + sun. They sheltered apparently, though at a considerable distance, another + farmhouse; for a road led along their southern edge, lined with telephone + posts. A large flock of sheep was grazing between the bluff and the trail, + the most appropriate kind of stock for this particular landscape. + </p> + <p> + While looking back at them, I noticed a curious trifle. The fence along my + road had good cedar posts, placed about fifteen feet apart. But at one + point there were two posts where one would have done. The wire, in fact, + was not fastened at all to the supernumerary one, and yet this useless + post was strongly braced by two stout, slanting poles. A mere nothing, + which I mention only because it was destined to be an important landmark + for me on future drives. + </p> + <p> + We drove on. At the next mile-corner all signs of human habitation ceased. + I had now on both sides that same virgin ground which I have described + above. Only here it was interspersed with occasional thickets of young + aspen-boles. It was somewhere in this wilderness that I saw a wolf, a + common prairie-wolf with whom I became quite familiar later on. I made it + my custom during the following weeks, on my return trips, to start at a + given point a few miles north of here eating the lunch which my wife used + to put up for me: sandwiches with crisply fried bacon for a filling. And + when I saw that wolf for the second time, I threw a little piece of bacon + overboard. He seemed interested in the performance and stood and watched + me in an averted kind of way from a distance. I have often noticed that + you can never see a wolf from the front, unless it so happens that he does + not see you. If he is aware of your presence, he will instantly swing + around, even though he may stop and watch you. If he watches, he does so + with his head turned back. That is one of the many precautions the wily + fellow has learned, very likely through generations of bitter experience. + After a while I threw out a second piece, and he started to trot + alongside, still half turned away; he kept at a distance of about two + hundred yards to the west running in a furtive, half guilty-looking way, + with his tail down and his eye on me. After that he became my regular + companion, an expected feature of my return trips, running with me every + time for a while and coming a little bit closer till about the middle of + November he disappeared, never to be seen again. This time I saw him in + the underbrush, about a hundred yards ahead and as many more to the west. + I took him by surprise, as he took me. I was sorry I had not seen him a + few seconds sooner. For, when I focused my eyes on him, he stood in a + curious attitude: as if he was righting himself after having slipped on + his hindfeet in running a sharp curve. At the same moment a rabbit shot + across that part of my field of vision to the east which I saw in a + blurred way only, from the very utmost corner of my right eye. I did not + turn but kept my eyes glued to the wolf. Nor can I tell whether I had + stirred the rabbit up, or whether the wolf had been chasing or stalking + it. I should have liked to know, for I have never seen a wolf stalking a + rabbit, though I have often seen him stalk fowl. Had he pulled up when he + saw me? As I said, I cannot tell, for now he was standing in the + characteristic wolf-way, half turned, head bent back, tail stretched out + nearly horizontally. The tail sank, the whole beast seemed to shrink, and + suddenly he slunk away with amazing agility. Poor fellow—he did not + know that many a time I had fed some of his brothers in cruel winters. But + he came to know me, as I knew him; for whenever he left me on later + drives, very close to Bell’s corner, after I had finished my lunch, he + would start right back on my trail, nose low, and I have no doubt that he + picked up the bits of bacon which I had dropped as tidbits for him. + </p> + <p> + I drove and drove. The sun neared the horizon now It was about six + o’clock. The poplar thickets on both sides of the road began to be larger. + In front the trail led towards a gate in a long, long line of towering + cottonwoods. What was beyond? + </p> + <p> + It proved to be a gate indeed. Beyond the cottonwoods there ran an + eastward grade lined on the north side by a ditch which I had to cross on + a culvert. It will henceforth be known as the “twelve-mile bridge.” Beyond + the culvert the road which I followed had likewise been worked up into a + grade. I did not like it, for it was new and rough. But less did I like + the habitation at the end of its short, one-mile career. It stood to the + right, close to the road, and was a veritable hovel. [Footnote: It might + be well to state expressly here that, whatever has been said in these + pages concerning farms and their inhabitants, has intentionally been so + arranged as not to apply to the exact localities at which they are + described. Anybody at all familiar with the district through which these + drives were made will readily identify every natural landmark. But + although I have not consciously introduced any changes in the landscape as + God made it, I have in fairness to the settlers entirely redrawn the + superimposed man-made landscape.] It was built of logs, but it looked more + like a dugout, for stable as well as dwelling were covered by way of a + roof with blower-thrown straw In the door of the hovel there stood two + brats—poor things! + </p> + <p> + The road was a trail again for a mile or two. It led once more through the + underbrush-wilderness interspersed with poplar bluffs. Then it became by + degrees a real “high-class” Southern Prairie grade. I wondered, but not + for long. Tall cottonwood bluffs, unmistakably planted trees, betrayed + more farms. There were three of them, and, strange to say, here on the + very fringe of civilization I found that “moneyed” type—a house, so + new and up-to-date, that it verily seemed to turn up its nose to the + traveller. I am sure it had a bathroom without a bathtub and various + similar modern inconveniences. The barn was of the Agricultural-College + type—it may be good, scientific, and all that, but it seems to crush + everything else around out of existence; and it surely is not picturesque—unless + it has wings and silos to relieve its rigid contours. Here it had not. + </p> + <p> + The other two farms to which I presently came—buildings set back + from the road, but not so far as to give them the air of aloofness—had + again that friendly, old-country expression that I have already mentioned: + here it was somewhat marred, though, by an over-rigidity of the lines. It + is unfortunate that our farmers, when they plant at all, will nearly + always plant in straight lines. The straight line is a flaw where we try + to blend the work of our hands with Nature. They also as a rule neglect + shrubs that would help to furnish a foreground for their trees; and, worst + of all, they are given to importing, instead of utilising our native + forest growth. Not often have I seen, for instance, our high-bush + cranberry planted, although it certainly is one of the most beautiful + shrubs to grow in copses. + </p> + <p> + These two farms proved to be pretty much the last sign of comfort that I + was to meet on my drives to the north. Though later I learned the names of + their owners and even made their acquaintance, for me they remained the + “halfway farms,” for, after I had passed them, at the very next corner, I + was seventeen miles from my starting point, seventeen miles from “home.” + </p> + <p> + Beyond, stretches of the real wilderness began, the pioneer country, where + farms, except along occasional highroads, were still three, four miles + apart, where the breaking on few homesteads had reached the thirty-acre + mark, and where a real, “honest-to-goodness” cash dollar bill was often as + scarce as a well-to-do teacher in the prairie country. + </p> + <p> + The sun went down, a ball of molten gold—two hours from “town,” as I + called it. It was past six o’clock. There were no rosy-fingered clouds; + just a paling of the blue into white; then a greying of the western sky; + and lastly the blue again, only this time dark. A friendly crescent still + showed trail and landmarks after even the dusk had died away. Four miles, + or a little more, and I should be in familiar land again. Four miles, that + I longed to make, before the last light failed... + </p> + <p> + The road angled to the northeast. I was by no means very sure of it. I + knew which general direction to hold, but trails that often became mere + cattle-paths crossed and criss-crossed repeatedly. It was too dark by this + time to see very far. I did not know the smaller landmarks. But I knew, if + I drove my horse pretty briskly, I must within little more than half an + hour strike a black wall of the densest primeval forest fringing a creek—and, + skirting this creek, I must find an old, weather-beaten lumber bridge. + When I had crossed that bridge, I should know the landmarks again. + </p> + <p> + Underbrush everywhere, mostly symphoricarpus, I thought. Large trunks + loomed up, charred with forest fires; here and there a round, white or + light-grey stone, ghostly in the waning light, knee-high, I should judge. + Once I passed the skeleton of a stable—the remnant of the buildings + put up by a pioneer settler who had to give in after having wasted effort + and substance and worn his knuckles to the bones. The wilderness uses + human material up... + </p> + <p> + A breeze from the north sprang up, and it turned strangely chilly I + started to talk to Peter, the loneliness seemed so oppressive. I told him + that he should have a walk, a real walk, as soon as we had crossed the + creek. I told him we were on the homeward half—that I had a bag of + oats in the box, and that my wife would have a pail of water ready... And + Peter trotted along. + </p> + <p> + Something loomed up in front. Dark and sinister it looked. Still there was + enough light to recognize even that which I did not know. A large bluff of + poplars rustled, the wind soughing through the stems with a wailing note. + The brush grew higher to the right. I suddenly noticed that I was driving + along a broken-down fence between the brush and myself. The brush became a + grove of boles which next seemed to shoot up to the full height of the + bluff. Then, unexpectedly, startlingly, a vista opened. Between the silent + grove to the south and the large; whispering, wailing bluff to the north + there stood in a little clearing a snow white log house, uncannily white + in the paling moonlight. I could still distinctly see that its upper + windows were nailed shut with boards—and yes, its lower ones, too. + And yet, the moment I passed it, I saw through one unclosed window on the + northside light. Unreasonably I shuddered. + </p> + <p> + This house, too, became a much-looked-for landmark to me on my future + drives. I learned that it stood on the range line and called it the “White + Range Line House.” There hangs a story by this house. Maybe I shall one + day tell it... + </p> + <p> + Beyond the great and awe-inspiring poplar-bluff the trail took a sharp + turn eastward. From the southwest another rut-road joined it at the bend. + I could only just make it out in the dark, for even moonlight was fading + fast now. The sudden, reverberating tramp of the horse’s feet betrayed + that I was crossing a culvert. I had been absorbed in getting my bearings, + and so it came as a surprise. It had not been mentioned in the elaborate + directions which I had received with regard to the road to follow. For a + moment, therefore, I thought I must be on the wrong trail. But just then + the dim view, which had been obstructed by copses and thickets, cleared + ahead in the last glimmer of the moon, and I made out the back cliff of + forest darkly looming in the north—that forest I knew. Behind a + narrow ribbon of bush the ground sloped down to the bed of the creek—a + creek that filled in spring and became a torrent, but now was sluggish and + slow where it ran at all. In places it consisted of nothing but a line of + muddy pools strung along the bottom of its bed. In summer these were a + favourite haunting place for mosquito-and-fly-plagued cows. There the + great beasts would lie down in the mud and placidly cool their punctured + skins. A few miles southwest the creek petered out entirely in a bed of + shaly gravel bordering on the Big Marsh which I had skirted in my drive + and a corner of which I was crossing just now. + </p> + <p> + The road was better here and spoke of more traffic. It was used to haul + cordwood in late winter and early spring to a town some ten or fifteen + miles to the southwest. So I felt sure again I was not lost but would + presently emerge on familiar territory. The horse seemed to know it, too, + for he raised his head and went at a better gait. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes passed. There was hardly a sound from my vehicle. The buggy + was rubber-tired, and the horse selected a smooth ribbon of grass to run + on. But from the black forest wall there came the soughing of the wind and + the nocturnal rustle of things unknown. And suddenly there came from close + at hand a startling sound: a clarion call that tore the veil lying over my + mental vision: the sharp, repeated whistle of the whip-poor-will. And with + my mind’s eye I saw the dusky bird: shooting slantways upward in its low + flight which ends in a nearly perpendicular slide down to within ten or + twelve feet from the ground, the bird being closely followed by a second + one pursuing. In reality I did not see the birds, but I heard the fast + whir of their wings. + </p> + <p> + Another bird I saw but did not hear. It was a small owl. The owl’s flight + is too silent, its wing is down-padded. You may hear its beautiful call, + but you will not hear its flight, even though it circle right around your + head in the dusk. This owl crossed my path not more than an inch or two in + front. It nearly grazed my forehead, so that I blinked. Oh, how I felt + reassured! I believe, tears welled in my eyes. When I come to the home of + frog and toad, of gartersnake and owl and whip-poor-will, a great + tenderness takes possession of me, and I should like to shield and help + them all and tell them not to be afraid of me; but I rather think they + know it anyway. + </p> + <p> + The road swung north, and then east again; we skirted the woods; we came + to the bridge; it turned straight north; the horse fell into a walk. I + felt that henceforth I could rely on my sense of orientation to find the + road. It was pitch dark in the bush—the thin slice of the moon had + reached the horizon and followed the sun; no light struck into the hollow + which I had to thread after turning to the southeast for a while. But as + if to reassure me once more and still further of the absolute friendliness + of all creation for myself—at this very moment I saw high overhead, + on a dead branch of poplar, a snow white owl, a large one, eighteen inches + tall, sitting there in state, lord as he is of the realm of night... + </p> + <p> + Peter walked—though I did not see the road, the horse could not + mistake it. It lay at the bottom of a chasm of trees and bushes. I drew my + cloak somewhat closer around and settled back. This cordwood trail took us + on for half a mile, and then we came to a grade leading east. The grade + was rough; it was the first one of a network of grades which were being + built by the province, not primarily for the roads they afforded, but for + the sake of the ditches of a bold and much needed drainage-system. To this + very day these yellow grades of the pioneer country along the lake lie + like naked scars on Nature’s body: ugly raw, as if the bowels were torn + out of a beautiful bird and left to dry and rot on its plumage. Age will + mellow them down into harmony. + </p> + <p> + Peter had walked for nearly half an hour. The ditch was north of the + grade. I had passed, without seeing it, a newly cut-out road to the north + which led to a lonesome schoolhouse in the bush. As always when I passed + or thought of it, I had wondered where through this wilderness-tangle of + bush and brush the children came from to fill it—walking through + winter-snows, through summer-muds, for two, three, four miles or more to + get their meagre share of the accumulated knowledge of the world. And the + teacher! Was it the money? Could it be when there were plenty of schools + in the thickly settled districts waiting for them? I knew of one who had + come to this very school in a car and turned right back when she saw that + she was expected to live as a boarder on a comfortless homestead and walk + quite a distance and teach mostly foreign-born children. It had been the + money with her! Unfortunately it is not the woman—nor the man + either, for that matter—who drives around in a car, that will buckle + down and do this nation’s work! I also knew there were others like myself + who think this backwoods bushland God’s own earth and second only to + Paradise—but few! And these young girls that quake at their + loneliness and yet go for a pittance and fill a mission! But was not my + wife of their very number? + </p> + <p> + I started up. Peter was walking along. But here, somewhere, there led a + trail off the grade, down through the ditch, and to the northeast into the + bush which swallows it up and closes behind it. This trail needs to be + looked for even in daytime, and I was to find it at night! But by this + time starlight began to aid. Vega stood nearly straight overhead, and + Deneb and Altair, the great autumnal triangle in our skies. The Bear, too, + stood out boldly, and Cassiopeia opposite. + </p> + <p> + I drew in and got out of the buggy; and walking up to the horse’s head, + got ahold of the bridle and led him, meanwhile scrutinizing the ground + over which I stepped. At that I came near missing the trail. It was just a + darkening of the ground, a suggestion of black on the brown of the grade, + at the point where poles and logs had been pulled across with the logging + chain. I sprang down into the ditch and climbed up beyond and felt with my + foot for the dent worn into the edge of the slope, to make sure that I was + where I should be. It was right, so I led the horse across. At once he + stood on three legs again, left hindleg drawn up, and rested. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Peter,” I said, “I suppose I have made it easy enough for you: We + have another twelve miles to make. You’ll have to get up.” But Peter this + time did not stir till I touched him a flick with my whip. + </p> + <p> + The trail winds around, for it is a logging trail, leading up to the best + bluffs, which are ruthlessly cut down by the fuel-hunters. Only dead and + half decayed trees are spared. But still young boles spring up in + astonishing numbers. Aspen and Balm predominate, though there is some ash + and oak left here and there, with a conifer as the rarest treat for the + lover of trees. It is a pitiful thing to see a Nation’s heritage go into + the discard. In France or in England it would be tended as something + infinitely precious. The face of our country as yet shows the youth of + infancy, but we make it prematurely old. The settler who should regard the + trees as his greatest pride, to be cut into as sparingly as is compatible + with the exigencies of his struggle for life—he regards them as a + nuisance to be burned down by setting wholesale fires to them. Already + there is a scarcity of fuel-wood in these parts. + </p> + <p> + Where the fires as yet have not penetrated too badly, the cutting, which + leaves only what is worthless, determines the impression the forest makes. + At night this impression is distinctly uncanny. Like gigantic brooms, with + their handles stuck into the ground, the dead wood stands up; the + underbrush crowds against it, so dense that it lies like huge black + cushions under the stars. The inner recesses form an almost impenetrable + mass of young boles of shivering aspen and scented balm. This mass slopes + down to thickets of alder, red dogwood, haw, highbush cranberry, and + honeysuckle, with wide beds of goldenrod or purple asters shading off into + the spangled meadows wherever the copses open up into grassy glades. + </p> + <p> + Through this bush, and skirting its meadows, I drove for an hour. There + was another fork in the trail, and again I had to get out and walk on the + side, to feel with my foot for the rut where it branched to the north. And + then, after a while, the landscape opened up, the brush receded. At last I + became conscious of a succession of posts to the right, and a few minutes + later I emerged on the second east-west grade. Another mile to the east + along this grade, and I should come to the last, homeward stretch. + </p> + <p> + Again I began to talk to the horse. “Only five miles now, Peter, and then + the night’s rest. A good drink, a good feed of oats and wild hay, and the + birds will waken you in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + The northern lights leaped into the sky just as I turned from this + east-west grade, north again, across a high bridge, to the last road that + led home. To the right I saw a friendly light, and a dog’s barking voice + rang over from the still, distant farmstead. I knew the place. An American + settler with a French sounding name had squatted down there a few years + ago. + </p> + <p> + The road I followed was, properly speaking, not a road at all, though used + for one. A deep master ditch had been cut from ten or twelve miles north + of here; it angled, for engineering reasons, so that I was going northwest + again. The ground removed from the ditch had been dumped along its east + side, and though it formed only a narrow, high, and steep dam, rough with + stones and overgrown with weeds, it was used by whoever had to go north or + south here. The next east-west grade which I was aiming to reach, four + miles north, was the second correction line that I had to use, twenty-four + miles distant from the first; and only a few hundred yards from its corner + I should be at home! + </p> + <p> + At home! All my thoughts were bent on getting home now. Five or six hours + of driving will make the strongest back tired, I am told. Mine is not of + the strongest. This road lifted me above the things that I liked to watch. + Invariably, on all these drives, I was to lose interest here unless the + stars were particularly bright and brilliant. This night I watched the + lights, it is true: how they streamed across the sky, like driving rain + that is blown into wavy streaks by impetuous wind. And they leaped and + receded, and leaped and receded again. But while I watched, I stretched my + limbs and was bent on speed. There were a few particularly bad spots in + the road, where I could not do anything but walk the horse. So, where the + going was fair, I urged him to redoubled effort. I remember how I + reflected that the horse as yet did not know we were so near home, this + being his first trip out; and I also remember, that my wife afterwards + told me that she had heard me a long while before I came—had heard + me talking to the horse, urging him on and encouraging him. + </p> + <p> + Now I came to a slight bend in the road. Only half a mile! And sure + enough: there was the signal put out for me. A lamp in one of the windows + of the school—placed so that after I turned in on the yard, I could + not see it—it might have blinded my eye, and the going is rough + there with stumps and stones. I could not see the cottage, it stood behind + the school. But the school I saw clearly outlined against the dark blue, + star-spangled sky, for it stands on a high gravel ridge. And in the most + friendly and welcoming way it looked with its single eye across at the + nocturnal guest. + </p> + <p> + I could not see the cottage, but I knew that my little girl lay sleeping + in her cosy bed, and that a young woman was sitting there in the dark, her + face glued to the windowpane, to be ready with a lantern which burned in + the kitchen whenever I might pull up between school and house. And there, + no doubt, she had been sitting for a long while already; and there she was + destined to sit during the winter that came, on Friday nights—full + often for many and many an hour—full often till midnight—and + sometimes longer... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TWO. Fog + </h2> + <p> + Peter took me north, alone, on six successive trips. We had rain, we had + snow, we had mud, and hard-frozen ground. It took us four, it took us six, + it took us on one occasion—after a heavy October snowfall—nearly + eleven hours to make the trip. That last adventure decided me. It was + unavoidable that I should buy a second horse. The roads were getting too + heavy for single driving over such a distance. This time I wanted a horse + that I could sell in the spring to a farmer for any kind of work on the + land. I looked around for a while. Then I found Dan. He was a sorrel, with + some Clyde blood in him. He looked a veritable skate of a horse. You could + lay your fingers between his ribs, and he played out on the first trip I + ever made with this newly-assembled, strange-looking team. But when I look + back at that winter, I cannot but say that again I chose well. After I had + fed him up, he did the work in a thoroughly satisfactory manner, and he + learnt to know the road far better than Peter. Several times I should have + been lost without his unerring road sense. In the spring I sold him for + exactly what I had paid; the farmer who bought him has him to this very + day [Footnote: Spring, 1919.] and says he never had a better horse. + </p> + <p> + I also had found that on moonless nights it was indispensable for me to + have lights along. Now maybe the reader has already noticed that I am + rather a thorough-going person. For a week I worked every day after four + at my buggy and finally had a blacksmith put on the finishing touches. + What I rigged up, was as follows: On the front springs I fastened with + clamps two upright iron supports; between them with thumbscrews the + searchlight of a wrecked steam tractor which I got for a “Thank-you” from + a junk-pile. Into the buggy box I laid a borrowed acetylene gas tank, + strapped down with two bands of galvanized tin. I made the connection by a + stout rubber tube, “guaranteed not to harden in the severest weather.” To + the side of the box I attached a short piece of bandiron, bent at an + angle, so that a bicycle lamp could be slipped over it. Against the case + that I should need a handlight, I carried besides a so-called dashboard + coal-oil lantern with me. With all lamps going, it must have been a + strange outfit to look at from a distance in the dark. + </p> + <p> + I travelled by this time in fur coat and cap, and I carried a robe for + myself and blankets for the horses, for I now fed them on the road soon + after crossing the creek. + </p> + <p> + Now on the second Friday of November there had been a smell of smoke in + the air from the early morning. The marsh up north was afire—as it + had been off and on for a matter of twenty-odd years. The fire consumes on + the surface everything that will burn; the ground cools down, a new + vegetation springs up, and nobody would suspect—as there is nothing + to indicate—that only a few feet below the heat lingers, ready to + leap up again if given the opportunity In this case I was told that a man + had started to dig a well on a newly filed claim, and that suddenly he + found himself wrapped about in smoke and flames. I cannot vouch for the + truth of this, but I can vouch for the fact that the smoke of the fire was + smelt for forty miles north and that in the afternoon a combination of + this smoke (probably furnishing “condensation nuclei”) and of the moisture + in the air, somewhere along or above the lake brought about the densest + fog I had ever seen on the prairies. How it spread, I shall discuss later + on. To give an idea of its density I will mention right here that on the + well travelled road between two important towns a man abandoned his car + during the early part of the night because he lost his nerve when his + lights could no longer penetrate the fog sufficiently to reach the road. + </p> + <p> + I was warned at noon. “You surely do not intend to go out to-night?” + remarked a lawyer-acquaintance to me at the dinner table in the hotel; for + by telephone from lake-points reports of the fog had already reached the + town. “I intend to leave word at the stable right now,” I replied, “to + have team and buggy in front of the school at four o’clock.” “Well,” said + the lawyer in getting up, “I would not; you’ll run into fog.” + </p> + <p> + And into fog I did run. At this time of the year I had at best only a + little over an hour’s start in my race against darkness. I always drove my + horses hard now while daylight lasted; I demanded from them their very + best strength at the start. Then, till we reached the last clear road over + the dam, I spared them as much as I could. I had met up with a few things + in the dark by now, and I had learned, if a difficulty arose, how much + easier it is to cope with it even in failing twilight than by the gleam of + lantern or headlight; for the latter never illumine more than a limited + spot. + </p> + <p> + So I had turned Bell’s corner by the time I hit the fog. I saw it in front + and to the right. It drew a slanting line across the road. There it stood + like a wall. Not a breath seemed to be stirring. The fog, from a distance, + appeared to rise like a cliff, quite smoothly, and it blotted out the + world beyond. When I approached it, I saw that its face was not so smooth + as it had appeared from half a mile back; nor was it motionless. In fact, + it was rolling south and west like a wave of great viscosity. Though my + senses failed to perceive the slightest breath of a breeze, the fog was + brewing and whirling, and huge spheres seemed to be forming in it, and to + roll forward, slowly, and sometimes to recede, as if they had encountered + an obstacle and rebounded clumsily. I had seen a tidal wave, fifty or more + feet high, sweep up the “bore” of a river at the head of the Bay of Fundy. + I was reminded of the sight; but here everything seemed to proceed in a + strangely, weirdly leisurely way. There was none of that rush, of that + hurry about this fog that characterizes water. Besides there seemed to be + no end to the wave above; it reached up as far as your eye could see—now + bulging in, now out, but always advancing. It was not so slow however, as + for the moment I judged it to be; for I was later on told that it reached + the town at about six o’clock. And here I was, at five, six and a half + miles from its limits as the crow flies. + </p> + <p> + I had hardly time to take in the details that I have described before I + was enveloped in the folds of the fog. I mean this quite literally, for I + am firmly convinced that an onlooker from behind would have seen the grey + masses fold in like a sheet when I drove against them. It must have looked + as if a driver were driving against a canvas moving in a slight breeze—canvas + light and loose enough to be held in place by the resistance of the air so + as to enclose him. Or maybe I should say “veiling” instead of canvas—or + something still lighter and airier. Have you ever seen milk poured + carefully down the side of a glass vessel filled with water? Well, clear + air and fog seemed to behave towards each other pretty much the same way + as milk in that case behaves towards water. + </p> + <p> + I am rather emphatic about this because I have made a study of just such + mists on a very much smaller scale. In that northern country where my wife + taught her school and where I was to live for nearly two years as a + convalescent, the hollows of the ground on clear cold summer nights, when + the mercury dipped down close to the freezing point, would sometimes fill + with a white mist of extraordinary density. Occasionally this mist would + go on forming in higher and higher layers by condensation; mostly however, + it seemed rather to come from below. But always, when it was really dense, + there was a definite plane of demarcation. In fact, that was the criterion + by which I recognised this peculiar mist. Mostly there is, even in the + north, a layer of lesser density over the pools, gradually shading off + into the clear air above. Nothing of what I am going to describe can be + observed in that case. + </p> + <p> + One summer, when I was living not over two miles from the lakeshore, I + used to go down to these pools whenever they formed in the right way; and + when I approached them slowly and carefully, I could dip my hand into the + mist as into water, and I could feel the coolness of the misty layers. It + was not because my hand got moist, for it did not. No evaporation was + going on there, nor any condensation either. Nor did noticeable bubbles + form because there was no motion in the mass which might have caused the + infinitesimal droplets to collide and to coalesce into something + perceivable to my senses. + </p> + <p> + Once, of a full-moon night, I spent an hour getting into a pool like that, + and when I looked down at my feet, I could not see them. But after I had + been standing in it for a while, ten minutes maybe, a clear space had + formed around my body, and I could see the ground. The heat of my body + helped the air to redissolve the mist into steam. And as I watched, I + noticed that a current was set up. The mist was continually flowing in + towards my feet and legs where the body-heat was least. And where + evaporation proceeded fastest, that is at the height of my waist, little + wisps of mist would detach themselves from the side of the funnel of clear + air in which I stood, and they would, in a slow, graceful motion, + accelerated somewhat towards the last, describe a downward and inward + curve towards the lower part of my body before they dissolved. I thought + of that elusive and yet clearly defined layer of mist that forms in the + plane of contact between the cold air flowing from Mammoth Cave in + Kentucky and the ambient air of a sultry summer day. [Footnote: See + Burroughs’ wonderful description of this phenomenon in “Riverby.”] + </p> + <p> + On another of the rare occasions when the mists had formed in the + necessary density I went out again, put a stone in my pocket and took a + dog along. I approached a shallow mist pool with the greatest caution. The + dog crouched low, apparently thinking that I was stalking some game. Then, + when I had arrived within about ten or fifteen yards from the edge of the + pool, I took the stone from my pocket, showed it to the dog, and threw it + across the pool as fast and as far as I could. The dog dashed in and tore + through the sheet. Where the impact of his body came, the mist bulged in, + then broke. For a while there were two sheets, separated by a more or less + clearly defined, vertical layer of transparency or maybe blackness rather. + The two sheets were in violent commotion, approaching, impinging upon each + other, swinging back again to complete separation, and so on. But the + violence of the motion consisted by no means in speed: it suggested a very + much retarded rolling off of a motion picture reel. There was at first an + element of disillusion in the impression. I felt tempted to shout and to + spur the mist into greater activity. On the surface, to both sides of the + tear, waves ran out, and at the edges of the pool they rose in that same + leisurely, stately way which struck me as one of the most characteristic + features of that November mist; and at last it seemed as if they reared + and reached up, very slowly as a dying man may stand up once more before + he falls. And only after an interval that seemed unconscionably long to me + the whole pool settled back to comparative smoothness, though without its + definite plane of demarcation now. Strange to say, the dog had actually + started something, a rabbit maybe or a jumping deer, and did not return. + </p> + <p> + When fogs spread, as a rule they do so in air already saturated with + moisture. What really spreads, is the cold air which by mixing with, and + thereby cooling, the warmer, moisture-laden atmosphere causes the + condensation. That is why our fall mists mostly are formed in an + exceedingly slight but still noticeable breeze. But in the case of these + northern mist pools, whenever the conditions are favourable for their + formation, the moisture of the upper air seems to be pretty well condensed + as dew It is only in the hollows of the ground that it remains suspended + in this curious way. I cannot, so far, say whether it is due to the fact + that where radiation is largely thrown back upon the walls of the hollow, + the fall in temperature at first is very much slower than in the open, + thus enabling the moisture to remain in suspension; or whether the hollows + serve as collecting reservoirs for the cold air from the surrounding + territory—the air carrying the already condensed moisture with it; + or whether, lastly, it is simply due to a greater saturation of the + atmosphere in these cavities, consequent upon the greater approach of + their bottom to the level of the ground water. I have seen a “waterfall” + of this mist overflow from a dent in the edge of ground that contained a + pool. That seems to argue for an origin similar to that of a spring; as if + strongly moisture-laden air welled up from underground, condensing its + steam as it got chilled. It is these strange phenomena that are familiar, + too, in the northern plains of Europe which must have given rise to the + belief in elves and other weird creations of the brain—“the earth + has bubbles as the water has”—not half as weird, though, as some + realities are in the land which I love. + </p> + <p> + Now this great, memorable fog of that November Friday shared the nature of + the mist pools of the north in as much as to a certain extent it refused + to mingle with the drier and slightly warmer air into which it travelled. + It was different from them in as much as it fairly dripped and oozed with + a very palpable wetness. Just how it displaced the air in its path, is + something which I cannot with certainty say. Was it formed as a low layer + somewhere over the lake and slowly pushed along by a gentle, + imperceptible, fan-shaped current of air? Fan-shaped, I say; for, as we + shall see, it travelled simultaneously south and north; and I must infer + that in exactly the same way it travelled west. Or was it formed + originally like a tremendous column which flattened out by and by, through + its own greater gravity slowly displacing the lighter air in the lower + strata? I do not know, but I am inclined to accept the latter explanation. + I do know that it travelled at the rate of about six miles an hour; and + its coming was observed somewhat in detail by two other observers besides + myself—two people who lived twenty-five miles apart, one to the + north, one to the south of where I hit it. Neither one was as much + interested in things meteorological as I am, but both were struck by the + unusual density of the fog, and while one saw it coming from the north, + the other one saw it approaching from the south. + </p> + <p> + I have no doubt that at last it began to mingle with the clearer air and + to thin out; in fact, I have good testimony to that effect. And early next + morning it was blown by a wind like an ordinary fog-cloud all over Portage + Plains. + </p> + <p> + I also know that further north, at my home, for instance, it had the smell + of the smoke which could not have proceeded from anywhere but the marsh; + and the marsh lay to the south of it. That seemed to prove that actually + the mist was spreading from a common centre in at least two directions. + These points, which I gathered later, strongly confirmed my own + observations, which will be set down further on. It must, then, have been + formed as a layer of a very considerable height, to be able to spread over + so many square miles. + </p> + <p> + As I said, I was reminded of those mist pools in the north when I + approached the cliff of the fog, especially of that “waterfall” of mist of + which I spoke. But besides the difference in composition—the fog, as + we shall see, was not homogeneous, this being the cause of its wetness—there + was another important point of distinction. For, while the mist of the + pools is of the whitest white, this fog showed from the outside and in the + mass—the single wreaths seemed white enough—rather the colour + of that “wet, unbleached linen” of which Burroughs speaks in connection + with rain-clouds. + </p> + <p> + Now, as soon as I was well engulfed in the fog, I had a few surprises. I + could no longer see the road ahead; I could not see the fence along which + I had been driving; I saw the horses’ rumps, but I did not see their + heads. I bent forward over the dashboard: I could not even see the ground + below It was a series of negatives. I stopped the horses. I listened—then + looked at my watch. The stillness of the grave enveloped me. It was a + little past five o’clock. The silence was oppressive—the misty + impenetrability of the atmosphere was appalling. I do not say “darkness,” + for as yet it was not really dark. I could still see the dial of my watch + clearly enough to read the time. But darkness was falling fast—“falling,” + for it seemed to come from above: mostly it rises—from out of the + shadows under the trees—advancing, fighting back the powers of light + above. + </p> + <p> + One of the horses, I think it was Peter, coughed. It was plain they felt + chilly. I thought of my lights and started with stiffening fingers to + fumble at the valves of my gas tank. When reaching into my trouser pockets + for matches, I was struck with the astonishing degree to which my furs had + been soaked in these few minutes. As for wetness, the fog was like a + sponge. At last, kneeling in the buggy box, I got things ready. I smelt + the gas escaping from the burner of my bicycle lantern and heard it + hissing in the headlight. The problem arose of how to light a match. I + tried various places—without success. Even the seat of my trousers + proved disappointing. I got a sizzling and sputtering flame, it is true, + but it went out before I could apply it to the gas. The water began to + drip from the backs of my hands. It was no rain because it did not fall. + It merely floated along; but the droplets, though smaller, were infinitely + more numerous than in a rain—there were more of them in a given + space. At last I lifted the seat cushion under which I had a tool box + filled with ropes, leather straps and all manner of things that I might + ever be in need of during my nights in the open. There I found a dry spot + where to strike the needed match. I got the bicycle lantern started. It + burned quite well, and I rather admired it: unreasoningly I seemed to have + expected that it would not burn in so strange an atmosphere. So I + carefully rolled a sheet of letter paper into a fairly tight roll, working + with my back to the fog and under the shelter of my big raccoon coat. I + took a flame from the bicycle light and sheltered and nursed it along till + I thought it would stand the drizzle. Then I turned and thrust the + improvised torch into the bulky reflector case of the searchlight. The + result was startling. A flame eighteen inches high leaped up with a + crackling and hissing sound. + </p> + <p> + The horses bolted, and the buggy jumped. I was lucky, for inertia carried + me right back on the seat, and as soon as I had the lines in my hands + again, I felt that the horses did not really mean it. I do not think we + had gone more than two or three hundred yards before the team was under + control. I stopped and adjusted the overturned valves. When I succeeded, I + found to my disappointment that the heat of that first flame had partly + spoiled the reflector. Still, my range of vision now extended to the + belly-band in the horses’ harness. The light that used to show me the road + for about fifty feet in front of the horses’ heads gave a short truncated + cone of great luminosity, which was interesting and looked reassuring; but + it failed to reach the ground, for it was so adjusted that the focus of + the converging light rays lay ahead and not below. Before, therefore, the + point of greatest luminosity was reached, the light was completely + absorbed by the fog. + </p> + <p> + I got out of the buggy, went to the horses’ heads and patted their noses + which were dripping with wetness. But now that I faced the headlight, I + could see it though I had failed to see the horses’ heads when seated + behind it. This, too, was quite reassuring, for it meant that the horses + probably could see the ground even though I did not. + </p> + <p> + But where was I? I soon found out that we had shot off the trail. And to + which side? I looked at my watch again. Already the incident had cost me + half an hour. It was really dark by now, even outside the fog, for there + was no moon. I tried out how far I could get away from the buggy without + losing sight of the light. It was only a very few steps, not more than a + dozen. I tried to visualize where I had been when I struck the fog. And + fortunately my habit of observing the smallest details, even, if only + subconsciously, helped me out. I concluded that the horses had bolted + straight ahead, thus missing an s-shaped curve to the right. + </p> + <p> + At this moment I heard Peter paw the ground impatiently; so I quickly + returned to the horses, for I did not relish the idea of being left alone. + There was an air of impatience and nervousness about both of them. + </p> + <p> + I took my bicycle lantern and reached for the lines. Then, standing clear + of the buggy, I turned the horses at right angles, to the north, as I + imagined it to be. When we started, I walked alongside the team through + dripping underbrush and held the lantern with my free hand close down to + the ground. + </p> + <p> + Two or three times I stopped during the next half hour, trying, since we + still did not strike the trail, to reason out a different course. I was + now wet through and through up to my knees; and I had repeatedly run into + willow-clumps, which did not tend to make me any drier either. At last I + became convinced that in bolting the horses must have swerved a little to + the south, so that in starting up again we had struck a tangent to the big + bend north, just beyond Bell’s farm. If that was the case, we should have + to make another turn to the right in order to strike the road again, for + at best we were then simply going parallel to it. The trouble was that I + had nothing to tell me the directions, not even a tree the bark or moss of + which might have vouchsafed information. Suddenly I had an inspiration. + Yes, the fog was coming from the northeast! So, by observing the drift of + the droplets I could find at least an approximate meridian line. I went to + the headlight, and an observation immediately confirmed my conjecture. I + was now convinced that I was on that wild land where two months ago I had + watched the goldfinches disporting themselves in the evening sun. But so + as not to turn back to the south, I struck out at an angle of only about + sixty degrees to my former direction. I tried not to swerve, which + involved rough going, and I had many a stumble. Thus I walked for another + half hour or thereabout. + </p> + <p> + Then, certainly! This was the road! The horses turned into it of their own + accord. That was the most reassuring thing of all. There was one strange + doubt left. Somehow I was not absolutely clear about it whether north + might not after all be behind. I stopped. Even a new observation of the + fog did not remove the last vestige of a doubt. I had to take a chance, + some landmark might help after a while. + </p> + <p> + I believe in getting ready before I start. So I took my coal-oil lantern, + lighted and suspended it under the rear springs of the buggy in such a way + that it would throw its light back on the road. Having the light away + down, I expected to be able to see at least whether I was on a road or + not. In this I was only partly successful; for on the rut-trails nothing + showed except the blades of grass and the tops of weeds; while on the + grades where indeed I could make out the ground, I did not need a light, + for, as I found out, I could more confidently rely on my ear. + </p> + <p> + I got back to my seat and proceeded to make myself as comfortable as I + could. I took off my shoes and socks keeping well under the robe—extracted + a pair of heavy woollens from my suitcase under the seat, rubbed my feet + dry and then wrapped up, without putting my shoes on again, as carefully + and scientifically as only a man who has had pneumonia and is a chronic + sufferer from pleuritis knows how to do. + </p> + <p> + At last I proceeded. After listening again with great care for any sound I + touched the horses with my whip, and they fell into a quiet trot. It was + nearly seven now, and I had probably not yet made eight miles. We swung + along. If I was right in my calculations and the horses kept to the road, + I should strike the “twelve-mile bridge” in about three-quarters of an + hour. That was the bridge leading through the cottonwood gate to the grade + past the “hovel.” I kept the watch in the mitt of my left hand. + </p> + <p> + Not for a moment did it occur to me to turn back. Way up north there was a + young woman preparing supper for me. The fog might not be there—she + would expect me—I could not disappoint her. And then there was the + little girl, who usually would wake up and in her “nightie” come out of + bed and sleepily smile at me and climb on to my knee and nod off again. I + thought of them, to be sure, of the hours and hours in wait for them, and + a great tenderness came over me, and gratitude for the belated home they + gave an aging man... + </p> + <p> + And slowly my mind reverted to the things at hand. And this is what was + the most striking feature about them: I was shut in, closed off from the + world around. Apart from that cone of visibility in front of the + headlight, and another much smaller one from the bicycle lamp, there was + not a thing I could see. If the road was the right one, I was passing now + through some square miles of wild land. Right and left there were poplar + thickets, and ahead there was that line of stately cottonwoods. But no + suggestion of a landmark—nothing except a cone of light which was + filled with fog and cut into on both sides by two steaming and + rhythmically moving horseflanks. It was like a very small room, this space + of light—the buggy itself, in darkness, forming an alcove to it, in + which my hand knew every well-appointed detail. Gradually, while I was + warming up, a sense of infinite comfort came, and with it the enjoyment of + the elvish aspect. + </p> + <p> + I began to watch the fog. By bending over towards the dashboard and + looking into the soon arrested glare I could make out the component parts + of the fog. It was like the mixture of two immiscible liquids—oil, + for instance, shaken up with water. A fine, impalpable, yet very dense + mist formed the ground mass. But in it there floated myriads of droplets, + like the droplets of oil in water. These droplets would sometimes sparkle + in a mild, unobtrusive way as they were nearing the light; and then they + would dash against the pane and keep it dripping, dripping down. + </p> + <p> + I leaned back again; and I watched the whole of the light-cone. Snow white + wisps would float and whirl through it in graceful curves, stirred into + motion by the horses’ trot. Or a wreath of it would start to dance, as if + gently pulled or plucked at from above; and it would revolve, faster + towards the end, and fade again into the shadows behind. I thought of a + summer in Norrland, in Sweden, in the stone-and-birch waste which forms + the timberline, where I had also encountered the mist pools. And a trip + down a stream in the borderland of the Finns came back with great + vividness into my mind. That trip had been made in a fog like this; only + it had been begun in the early morning, and the whole mass of the mist had + been suffused with the whitest of lights. But strange to say, what stood + out most strikingly in the fleeting memory of the voyage, was the weird + and mocking laughter of the magpies all along the banks. The Finnish woods + seemed alive with that mocking laughter, and it truly belongs to the land + of the mists. For a moment I thought that something after all was missing + here on the prairies. But then I reflected again that this silence of the + grave was still more perfect, still more uncanny and ghostly, because it + left the imagination entirely free, without limiting it by even as much as + a suggestion. + </p> + <p> + No wonder, I thought, that the Northerners in their land of heath and bog + were the poets of elves and goblins and of the fear of ghosts. Shrouds + were these fogs, hanging and waving and floating shrouds! Mocking spirits + were plucking at them and setting them into their gentle motions. Gleams + of light, that dance over the bog, lured you in, and once caught in these + veils after veils of mystery, madness would seize you, and you would + wildly dash here and there in a vain attempt at regaining your freedom; + and when, exhausted at last, you broke down and huddled together on the + ground, the werwolf would come, ghostly himself, and huge and airy and + weird, his body woven of mist, and in the fog’s stately and leisurely way + he would kneel down on your chest, slowly crushing you beneath his + exceeding weight; and bending and straightening, bending and stretching, + slowly—slowly down came his head to your throat; and then he would + lie and not stir until morning and suck; and after few or many days people + would find you, dead in the woods—a victim of fog and mist... + </p> + <p> + A rumbling sound made me sit up at last. We were crossing over the + “twelve-mile bridge.” In spite of my dreaming I was keeping my eyes on the + look-out for any sign of a landmark, but this was the only one I had known + so far, and it came through the ear, not the eye. I promptly looked back + and up, to where the cottonwoods must be; but no sign of high, weeping + trees, no rustling of fall-dry leaves, not even a deeper black in the + black betrayed their presence. Well, never before had I failed to see some + light, to hear some sound around the house of the “moneyed” type or those + of the “half way farms.” Surely, somehow I should be aware of their + presence when I got there! Some sign, some landmark would tell me how far + I had gone!... The horses were trotting along, steaming, through the + brewing fog. I had become all ear. Even though my buggy was silent and + though the road was coated with a thin film of soft clay-mud, I could + distinctly hear by the muffled thud of the horses’ hoofs on the ground + that they were running over a grade. That confirmed my bearings. I had no + longer a moment’s doubt or anxiety over my drive. + </p> + <p> + The grade was left behind, the rut-road started again, was passed and + outrun. So now I was close to the three-farm cluster. I listened intently + for the horses’ thump. Yes, there was that muffled hoof-beat again—I + was on the last grade that led to the angling road across the corner of + the marsh. + </p> + <p> + Truly, this was very much like lying down in the sleeping-car of an + overland train. You recline and act as if nothing unusual were going on; + and meanwhile a force that has something irresistible about it and is + indeed largely beyond your control, wafts you over mile after mile of + fabled distance; now and then the rumble of car on rail will stop, the + quiet awakens you, lights flash their piercing darts, a voice calls out; + it is a well known stop on your journey and then the rumbling resumes, you + doze again, to be awakened again, and so on. And when you get up in the + morning—there she lies, the goal of your dreams-the resplendent + city... + </p> + <p> + My goal was my “home,” and mildly startling, at least one such mid-nightly + awakening came. I had kept peering about for a landmark, a light. + Somewhere here in those farmhouses which I saw with my mind’s eye, people + were sitting around their fireside, chatting or reading. Lamps shed their + homely light; roof and wall kept the fog-spook securely out: nothing as + comfortable then as to listen to stories of being lost on the marsh, or to + tell them... But between those people and myself the curtain had fallen—no + sign of their presence, no faintest gleam of their light and warmth! They + did not know of the stranger passing outside, his whole being a-yearn with + the desire for wife and child. I listened intently—no sound of man + or beast, no soughing of wind in stems or rustling of the very last leaves + that were now fast falling... And then the startling neighing of Dan, my + horse! This was the third trip he made with me, and I might have known and + expected it, but it always came as a surprise. Whenever we passed that + second farm, he stopped and raising his head, with a sideways motion, + neighed a loud and piercing call. And now he had stopped and done it + again. He knew where we were. I lowered my whip and patted his rump. How + did he know? And why did he do it? Was there a horse on this farmstead + which he had known in former life? Or was it a man? Or did he merely feel + that it was about time to put in for the night? I enquired later on, but + failed to discover any reason for his behaviour. + </p> + <p> + Now came that angling road past the “White Range Line House.” I relied on + the horses entirely. This “Range Line House” was inhabited now—a + settler was putting in winter-residence so he might not lose his claim. He + had taken down the clapboards that closed the windows, and always had I so + far seen a light in the house. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me that in this corner of the marsh the fog was less dense + than it had been farther south, and the horses, once started, were + swinging along though in a leisurely way, yet without hesitation. Another + half hour passed. Once, at a bend in the trail, the rays from the powerful + tractor searchlight, sweeping sideways past the horses, struck a wetly + glistening, greyish stone to the right of the road. I knew that stone. + Yes, surely the fog must be thinning, or I could not have seen it. I could + now also dimly make out the horses’ heads, as they nodded up and down... + </p> + <p> + And then, like a phantom, way up in the mist, I made out a blacker black + in the black—the majestic poplars north of the “Range Line House.” + Not that I could really see them or pick out the slightest detail—no! + But it seemed to my searching eyes as if there was a quiet pool in the + slow flow of the fog—as the water in a slow flowing stream will come + to rest when it strikes the stems of a willow submerged at its margin. I + was trying even at the time to decide how much of what I seemed to divine + rather than to perceive was imagination and how much reality. And I was + just about ready to contend that I also saw to the north something like + the faintest possible suggestion of an eddy, such as would form in the + flowing water below a pillar or a rock—when I was rudely shaken up + and jolted. + </p> + <p> + Trap, trap, I heard the horses’ feet on the culvert. Crash! And Peter went + stumbling down. Then a violent lurch of the buggy, I holding on—Peter + rallied, and then, before I had time to get a firmer grasp on the lines, + both horses bolted again. It took me some time to realize what had + happened. It was the culvert, of course; it had broken down, and lucky I + was that the ditch underneath was shallow. Only much later, when + reflecting upon the incident, did I see that this accident was really the + best verification of what I was nearly inclined to regard as the product + of my imagination. The trees must indeed have stood where I had seemed to + see that quiet reach in the fog and that eddy... + </p> + <p> + We tore along. I spoke to the horses and quietly and evenly pulled at the + lines. I think it must have been several minutes before I had them under + control again. And then—in this night of weird things—the + weirdest sight of them all showed ahead. + </p> + <p> + I was just beginning to wonder, whether after all we had not lost the road + again, when the faintest of all faint glimmers began to define itself + somewhere in front. And... was I right? Yes, a small, thin voice came out + of the fog that incessantly floated into my cone of light and was left + behind in eddies. What did it mean?... + </p> + <p> + The glimmer was now defining itself more clearly. Somewhere, not very far + ahead and slightly to the left, a globe of the faintest iridescent + luminosity seemed suspended in the brewing and waving mist. The horses + turned at right angles on to the bridge, the glimmer swinging round to the + other side of the buggy. Their hoofs struck wood, and both beasts snorted + and stopped. + </p> + <p> + In a flash a thought came. I had just broken through a culvert—the + bridge, too, must have broken down, and somebody had put a light there to + warn the chance traveller who might stray along on a night like this! I + was on the point of getting out of my wraps, when a thinner wave in the + mist permitted me to see the flames of three lanterns hung to the + side-rails of the bridge. And that very moment a thin, piping voice came + out of the darkness beyond. “Daddy, is that you?” I did not know the + child’s voice, but I sang out as cheerily as I could. “I am a daddy all + right, but I am afraid, not yours. Is the bridge broken down, sonny? + Anything wrong?” “No, Sir,” the answer came, “nothing wrong.” So I pulled + up to the lanterns, and there I saw, dimly enough, God wot, a small, + ten-year old boy standing and shivering by the signal which he had rigged + up. He was barefooted and bareheaded, in shirt and torn knee-trousers. I + pointed to the lanterns with my whip. “What’s the meaning of this, my + boy?” I asked in as friendly a voice as I could muster. “Daddy went to + town this morning,” he said rather haltingly, “and he must have got caught + in the fog. We were afraid he might not find the bridge.” “Well, cheer up, + son,” I said, “he is not the only one as you see; his horses will know the + road. Where did he go?” The boy named the town—it was to the west, + not half the distance away that I had come. “Don’t worry,” I said; “I + don’t think he has started out at all. The fog caught me about sixteen + miles south of here. It’s nine o’clock now If he had started before the + fog got there, he would be here by now.” I sat and thought for a moment. + Should I say anything about the broken culvert? “Which way would your + daddy come, along the creek or across the marsh?” “Along the creek.” All + right then, no use in saying anything further. “Well, as I said,” I sang + out and clicked my tongue to the horses, “don’t worry; better go home; he + will come to-morrow” “I guess so,” replied the boy the moment I lost sight + of him and the lanterns. + </p> + <p> + I made the turn to the southeast and walked my horses. Here, where the + trail wound along through the chasm of the bush, the light from my cone + would, over the horses’ backs, strike twigs and leaves now and then. + Everything seemed to drip and to weep. All nature was weeping I walked the + horses for ten minutes more. Then I stopped. It must have been just at the + point where the grade began; but I do not know for sure. + </p> + <p> + I fumbled a long while for my shoes; but at last I found them and put them + on over my dry woollens. When I had shaken myself out of my robes, I + jumped to the ground. There was, here, too, a film of mud on top, but + otherwise the road was firm enough. I quickly threw the blankets over the + horses’ backs, dropped the traces, took the bits out of their mouths, and + slipped the feed-bags over their heads. I looked at my watch, for it was + my custom to let them eat for just ten minutes, then to hook them up again + and walk them for another ten before trotting. I had found that that + refreshed them enough to make the remainder of the trip in excellent + shape. + </p> + <p> + While I was waiting, I stood between the wheels of the buggy, leaning + against the box and staring into the light. It was with something akin to + a start that I realized the direction from which the fog rolled by: it + came from the south! I had, of course, seen that already, but it had so + far not entered my consciousness as a definite observation. It was this + fact that later set me to thinking about the origin of the fog along the + lines which I have indicated above. Again I marvelled at the density of + the mist which somehow seemed greater while we were standing than while we + were driving. I had repeatedly been in the clouds, on mountainsides, but + they seemed light and thin as compared with this. Finland, Northern + Sweden, Canada—no other country which I knew had anything resembling + it. The famous London fogs are different altogether. These mists, like the + mist pools, need the swamp as their mother, I suppose, and the ice-cool + summer night for their nurse... + </p> + <p> + The time was up. I quickly did what had to be done, and five minutes later + we were on the road again. I watched the horses for a while, and suddenly + I thought once more of that fleeting impression of an eddy in the lee of + the poplar bluff at the “White Range Line House.” It was on the north side + of the trees, if it was there at all! The significance of the fact had + escaped me at the time. It again confirmed my observation of the flow of + the fog in both directions. It came from a common centre. And still there + was no breath of air. I had no doubt any longer; it was not the air that + pushed the fog; the floating bubbles, the infinitesimally small ones as + well as those that were quite perceptible, simply displaced the lighter + atmosphere. I wondered what kept these bubbles apart. Some repellent force + with which they were charged? Something, at any rate, must be preventing + them from coalescing into rain. Maybe it was merely the perfect evenness + of their flow, for they gathered thickly enough on the twigs and the few + dried leaves, on any obstacles in their way. And again I thought of the + fact that the mist had seemed thinner when I came out on the marsh. This + double flow explained it, of course. There were denser and less dense + waves in it: like veils hung up one behind the other. So long as I went in + a direction opposite to its flow, I had to look through sheet after sheet + of the denser waves. Later I could every now and then look along a plane + of lesser density... + </p> + <p> + It was Dan who found the turn off the grade into the bushy glades. I could + see distinctly how he pushed Peter over. Here, where again the road was + winding, and where the light, therefore, once more frequently struck the + twigs and boughs, as they floated into my cone of luminosity, to disappear + again behind, a new impression thrust itself upon me. I call it an + impression, not an observation. It is very hard to say, what was reality, + what fancy on a night like that. In spite of its air of unreality, of + improbability even, it has stayed with me as one of my strongest visions. + I nearly hesitate to put it in writing. + </p> + <p> + These boughs and twigs were like fingers held into a stream that carried + loose algae, arresting them in their gliding motion. Or again, those wisps + of mist were like gossamers as they floated along, and they would bend and + fold over on the boughs before they tore; and where they broke, they + seemed like comets to trail a thinner tail of themselves behind. There was + tenacity in them, a certain consistency which made them appear as if woven + of different things from air and mere moisture. I have often doubted my + memory here, and yet I have my very definite notes, and besides there is + the picture in my mind. In spite of my own uncertainty I can assure you, + that this is only one quarter a poem woven of impressions; the other three + quarters are reality. But, while I am trying to set down facts, I am also + trying to render moods and images begot by them... + </p> + <p> + We went on for an hour, and it lengthened out into two. No twigs and + boughs any longer, at last. But where I was, I knew not. Much as I + listened, I could not make out any difference in the tramp of the horses + now I looked down over the back of my buggy seat, and I seemed to see the + yellow or brownish clay of a grade. I went on rather thoughtlessly. Then, + about eleven o’clock, I noticed that the road was rough. I had long since, + as I said, given myself over to the horses. But now I grew nervous. No + doubt, unless we had entirely strayed from our road, we were by this time + riding the last dam; for no other trail over which we went was quite so + rough. But then I should have heard the rumble on the bridge, and I felt + convinced that I had not. It shows to what an extent a man may be + hypnotised into insensibility by a constant sameness of view, that I was + mistaken. If we were on the dam and missed the turn at the end of it, on + to the correction line, we should infallibly go down from the grade, on to + muskeg ground, for there was a gap in the dam. At that place I had seen a + horse disappear, and many a cow had ended there in the deadly struggle + against the downward suck of the swamp... + </p> + <p> + I pulled the horses back to a walk, and we went on for another half hour. + I was by this time sitting on the left hand side of the side, bicycle + lantern in my left hand, and bending over as far as I could to the left, + trying, with arm outstretched, to reach the ground with my light. The + lantern at the back of the buggy was useless for this. Here and there the + drop-laden, glistening tops of the taller grasses and weeds would float + into this auxiliary cone of light—but that was all. + </p> + <p> + Then no weeds appeared any longer, so I must be on the last half-mile of + the dam, the only piece of it that was bare and caution extreme was the + word. I made up my mind to go on riding for another five minutes and timed + myself, for there was hardly enough room for a team and a walking man + besides. When the time was up, I pulled in and got out. I took the lines + short, laid my right hand on Peter’s back and proceeded. The bicycle + lantern was hanging down from my left and showed plainly the clayey gravel + of the dam. And so I walked on for maybe ten minutes. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly I became again aware of a glimmer to the left, and the very next + moment a lantern shot out of the mist, held high by an arm wrapped in + white. A shivering woman, tall, young, with gleaming eyes, dressed in a + linen house dress, an apron flung over breast and shoulders, gasped out + two words, “You came!” “Have you been standing here and waiting?” I asked. + “No, no! I just could not bear it any longer. Something told me. He’s at + the culvert now, and if I do not run, he will go down into the swamp!” + There was something of a catch in the voice. I did not reply I swung the + horses around and crossed the culvert that bridges the master ditch. + </p> + <p> + And while we were walking up to the yard—had my drive been anything + brave—anything at all deserving of the slightest reward—had it + not in itself been a thing of beauty, not to be missed by selfish me—surely, + the touch of that arm, as we went, would have been more than enough to + reward even the most chivalrous deeds of yore. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THREE. Dawn and Diamonds + </h2> + <p> + Two days before Christmas the ground was still bare. I had a splendid new + cutter with a top and side curtains; a heavy outfit, but one that would + stand up, I believed, under any road conditions. I was anxious to use it, + too, for I intended to spend a two weeks’ holiday up north with my family. + I was afraid, if I used the buggy, I might find it impossible to get back + to town, seeing that the first heavy winter storms usually set in about + the turn of the year. + </p> + <p> + School had closed at noon. I intended to set out next morning at as early + an hour as I could. I do not know what gave me my confidence, but I firmly + expected to find snow on the ground by that time. I am rather a student of + the weather. I worked till late at night getting my cutter ready. I had to + adjust my buggy pole and to stow away a great number of parcels. The + latter contained the first real doll for my little girl, two or three + picture books, a hand sleigh, Pip—a little stuffed dog of the + silkiest fluffiness—and as many more trifles for wife and child as + my Christmas allowance permitted me to buy. It was the first time in the + five years of my married life that, thanks to my wife’s co-operation in + earning money, there was any Christmas allowance to spend; and since I am + writing this chiefly for her and the little girl’s future reading, I want + to set it down here, too, that it was thanks to this very same + co-operation that I had been able to buy the horses and the driving outfit + which I needed badly, for the poor state of my health forbade more + rigorous exercise. I have already said, I think, that I am essentially an + outdoor creature; and for several years the fact that I had been forced to + look at the out-of-doors from the window of a town house only, had been + eating away at my vitality. Those drives took decades off my age, and in + spite of incurable illness my few friends say that I look once more like a + young man. + </p> + <p> + Besides my Christmas parcels I had to take oats along, enough to feed the + horses for two weeks. And I was, as I said, engaged that evening in + stowing everything away, when about nine o’clock one of the physicians of + the town came into the stable. He had had a call into the country, I + believe, and came to order a team. When he saw me working in the shed, he + stepped up and said, “You’ll kill your horses.” “Meaning?” I queried. “I + see you are getting your cutter ready,” he replied. “If I were you, I + should stick to the wheels.” I laughed. “I might not be able to get back + to work.” “Oh yes,” he scoffed, “it won’t snow up before the end of next + month. We figure on keeping the cars going for a little while yet.” Again + I laughed. “I hope not,” I said, which may not have sounded very gracious. + </p> + <p> + At ten o’clock every bolt had been tightened, the horses’ harness and + their feed were ready against the morning, and everything looked good to + me. + </p> + <p> + I was going to have the first real Christmas again in twenty-five years, + with a real Christmas tree, and with wife and child, and even though it + was a poor man’s Christmas, I refused to let anything darken my Christmas + spirit or dull the keen edge of my enjoyment. Before going out, I stepped + into the office of the stable, slipped a half-dollar into the hostler’s + palm and asked him once more to be sure to have the horses fed at + half-past five in the morning. + </p> + <p> + Then I left. A slight haze filled the air, not heavy enough to blot out + the stars; but sufficient to promise hoarfrost at least. Somehow there was + no reason to despair as yet of Christmas weather. + </p> + <p> + I went home and to bed and slept about as soundly as I could wish. When + the alarm of my clock went off at five in the morning, I jumped out of bed + and hurried down to shake the fire into activity. As soon as I had started + something of a blaze, I went to the window and looked out. It was pitch + dark, of course, the moon being down by this time, but it seemed to me + that there was snow on the ground. I lighted a lamp and held it to the + window; and sure enough, its rays fell on white upon white on shrubs and + fence posts and window ledge. I laughed and instantly was in a glow of + impatience to be off. + </p> + <p> + At half past five, when the coffee water was in the kettle and on the + stove, I hurried over to the stable across the bridge. The snow was three + inches deep, enough to make the going easy for the horses. The slight haze + persisted, and I saw no stars. At the stable I found, of course, that the + horses had not been fed; so I gave them oats and hay and went to call the + hostler. When after much knocking at last he responded to my impatience, + he wore a guilty look on his face but assured me that he was just getting + up to feed my team. “Never mind about feeding,” I said “I’ve done that. + But have them harnessed and hitched up by a quarter past six. I’ll water + them on the road.” They never drank their fill before nine o’clock. And I + hurried home to get my breakfast... + </p> + <p> + “Merry Christmas!” the hostler called after me; and I shouted back over my + shoulder, “The same to you.” The horses were going under the merry jingle + of the bells which they carried for the first time this winter. + </p> + <p> + I rarely could hold them down to a walk or a trot now, since the cold + weather had set in; and mostly, before they even had cleared the + slide-doors, they were in a gallop. Peter had changed his nature since he + had a mate. By feeding and breeding he was so much Dan’s superior in + vitality that, into whatever mischief the two got themselves, he was the + leader. For all times the picture, seen by the light of a lantern, stands + out in my mind how he bit at Dan, wilfully, urging him playfully on, when + we swung out into the crisp, dark, hazy morning air. Dan being nothing + loth and always keen at the start, we shot across the bridge. + </p> + <p> + It was hard now, mostly, to hitch them up. They would leap and rear with + impatience when taken into the open before they were hooked to the + vehicle. They were being very well fed, and though once a week they had + the hardest of work, for the rest of the time they had never more than + enough to limber them up, for on schooldays I used to take them out for a + spin of three or four miles only, after four. At home, when I left, my + wife and I would get them ready in the stable; then I took them out and + lined them up in front of the buggy. My wife quickly took the lines: I + hooked the traces up, jumped in, grabbed for the lines and waved my last + farewell from the road afar off. Even at that they got away from us once + or twice and came very near upsetting and wrecking the buggy; but nothing + serious ever happened during the winter. I had to have horses like that, + for I needed their speed and their staying power, as the reader will see + if he cares to follow me very much farther. + </p> + <p> + We flew along—the road seemed ideal—the air was wonderfully + crisp and cold—my cutter fulfilled the highest expectations—the + horses revelled in speed. But soon I pulled them down to a trot, for I + followed the horsemen’s rules whenever I could, and Dan, as I mentioned, + was anyway rather too keen at the start for steady work later on. I + settled back. The top of my cutter was down, for not a breath stirred; and + I was always anxious to see as much of the country as I could... + </p> + <p> + Do you know which is the stillest hour of the night? The hour before dawn. + It is at that time, too, that in our winter nights the mercury dips down + to its lowest level. Perhaps the two things have a causal relation—whatever + there is of wild life in nature, withdraws more deeply within itself; it + curls up and dreams. On calm summer mornings you hear no sound except the + chirping and twittering of the sleeping birds. The birds are great + dreamers—like dogs; like dogs they will twitch and stir in their + sleep, as if they were running and flying and playing and chasing each + other. Just stalk a bird’s nest of which you know at half past two in the + morning, some time during the month of July; and before you see them, you + will hear them. If there are young birds in the nest, all the better; take + the mother bird off and the little ones will open their beaks, all mouth + as they are, and go to sleep again; and they will stretch their + featherless little wings; and if they are a little bit older, they will + even try to move their tiny legs, as if longing to use them. As with dogs, + it is the young ones that dream most. I suppose their impressions are so + much more vivid, the whole world is so new to them that it rushes in upon + them charged with emotion. Emotions penetrate even us to a greater depth + than mere apperceptions; so they break through that crust that seems to + envelop the seat of our memory, and once inside, they will work out again + into some form of consciousness—that of sleep or of the wakeful + dream which we call memory. + </p> + <p> + The stillest hour! In starlit winter nights the heavenly bodies seem to + take on an additional splendour, something next to blazing, overweening + boastfulness. “Now sleeps the world,” they seem to say, “but we are awake + and weaving destiny” And on they swing on their immutable paths. + </p> + <p> + The stillest hour! If you step out of a sleeping house and are alone, you + are apt to hold your breath; and if you are not, you are apt to whisper. + There is an expectancy in the air, a fatefulness—a loud word would + be blasphemy that offends the ear and the feeling of decency It is the + hour of all still things, the silent things that pass like dreams through + the night. You seem to stand hushed. Stark and bare, stripped of all + accidentals, the universe swings on its way. + </p> + <p> + The stillest hour! But how much stiller than still, when the earth has + drawn over its shoulders that morning mist that allows of no slightest + breath—when under the haze the very air seems to lie curled and to + have gone to sleep. And yet how portentous! The haze seems to brood. It + seems somehow to suggest that there is all of life asleep on earth. You + seem to feel rather than to hear the whole creation breathing in its sleep—as + if it was soundlessly stirring in dreams—presently to stretch, to + awake. There is also the delicacy, the tenderness of all young things + about it. Even in winter it reminds me of the very first unfolding of + young leaves on trees; of the few hours while they are still hanging down, + unable to raise themselves up as yet; they look so worldlywise sometimes, + so precocious, and before them there still lie all hopes and all + disappointments... In clear nights you forget the earth—under the + hazy cover your eye is thrown back upon it. It is the contrast of the + universe and of creation. + </p> + <p> + We drove along—and slowly, slowly came the dawn. You could not + define how it came. The whole world seemed to pale and to whiten, and that + was all. There was no sunrise. It merely seemed as if all of Nature—very + gradually—was soaking itself full of some light; it was dim at + first, but never grey; and then it became the whitest, the clearest, the + most undefinable light. There were no shadows. Under the brush of the wild + land which I was skirting by now there seemed to be quite as much of + luminosity as overhead. The mist was the thinnest haze, and it seemed to + derive its whiteness as much from the virgin snow on the ground as from + above. I could not cease to marvel at this light which seemed to be + without a source—like the halo around the Saviour’s face. The eye as + yet did not reach very far, and wherever I looked, I found but one word to + describe it: impalpable—and that is saying what it was not rather + than what it was. As I said, there was no sunshine, but the light was + there, omnipresent, diffused, coming mildly, softly, but from all sides, + and out of all things as well as into them. + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare has this word in Macbeth, and I had often pondered on it: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + So fair and foul a day I have not seen. +</pre> + <p> + This was it, I thought. We have such days about four or five times a year—and + none but the northern countries have them. There are clouds—or + rather, there is a uniform layer of cloud, very high, and just the + slightest suggestion of curdiness in it; and the light is very white. + These days seem to waken in me every wander instinct that lay asleep. + There is nothing definite, nothing that seems to be emphasized—something + seems to beckon to me and to invite me to take to my wings and just glide + along—without beating of wings—as if I could glide without + sinking, glide and still keep my height... If you see the sun at all—as + I did not on this day of days—he stands away up, very distant and + quite aloof. He looks more like the moon than like his own self, white and + heatless and lightless, as if it were not he at all from whom all this + transparency and visibility proceeded. + </p> + <p> + I have lived in southern countries, and I have travelled rather far for a + single lifetime. Like an epic stretch my memories into dim and ever + receding pasts. I have drunk full and deep from the cup of creation. The + Southern Cross is no strange sight to my eyes. I have slept in the desert + close to my horse, and I have walked on Lebanon. I have cruised in the + seven seas and seen the white marvels of ancient cities reflected in the + wave of incredible blueness. But then I was young. When the years began to + pile up, I longed to stake off my horizons, to flatten out my views. I + wanted the simpler, the more elemental things, things cosmic in their + associations, nearer to the beginning or end of creation. The parrot that + flashed through “nutmeg groves” did not hold out so much allurement as the + simple gray-and-slaty junco. The things that are unobtrusive and + differentiated by shadings only—grey in grey above all—like + our northern woods, like our sparrows, our wolves—they held a more + compelling attraction than orgies of colour and screams of sound. So I + came home to the north. On days like this, however, I should like once + more to fly out and see the tireless wave and the unconquerable rock. But + I should like to see them from afar and dimly only—as Moses saw the + promised land. Or I should like to point them out to a younger soul and + remark upon the futility and innate vanity of things. + </p> + <p> + And because these days take me out of myself, because they change my whole + being into a very indefinite longing and dreaming, I wilfully blot from my + vision whatever enters. If I meet a tree, I see it not. If I meet a man, I + pass him by without speaking. I do not care to be disturbed. I do not care + to follow even a definite thought. There is sadness in the mood, such + sadness as enters—strange to say—into a great and very + definitely expected disappointment. It is an exceedingly delicate sadness—haughty, + aloof like the sun, and like him cool to the outer world. It does not even + want sympathy; it merely wants to be left alone. + </p> + <p> + It strangely chimed in with my mood on this particular and very perfect + morning that no jolt shook me up, that we glided along over virgin snow + which had come soft-footedly over night, in a motion, so smooth and silent + as to suggest that wingless flight... + </p> + <p> + We spurned the miles, and I saw them not. As if in a dream we turned in at + one of the “half way farms,” and the horses drank. And we went on and + wound our way across that corner of the marsh. We came to the “White Range + Line House,” and though there were many things to see, I still closed the + eye of conscious vision and saw them not. We neared the bridge, and we + crossed it; and then—when I had turned southeast—on to the + winding log-road through the bush—at last the spell that was cast + over me gave way and broke. My horses fell into their accustomed walk, and + at last I saw. + </p> + <p> + Now, what I saw, may not be worth the describing, I do not know. It surely + is hardly capable of being described. But if I had been led through + fairylands or enchanted gardens, I could not have been awakened to a truer + day of joy, to a greater realization of the good will towards all things + than I was here. + </p> + <p> + Oh, the surpassing beauty of it! There stood the trees, motionless under + that veil of mist, and not their slenderest finger but was clothed in + white. And the white it was! A translucent white, receding into itself, + with strange backgrounds of white behind it—a modest white, and yet + full of pride. An elusive white, and yet firm and substantial. The white + of a diamond lying on snow white velvet, the white of a diamond in + diffused light. None of the sparkle and colour play that the most precious + of stones assumes under a definite, limited light which proceeds from a + definite, limited source. Its colour play was suggested, it is true, but + so subdued that you hardly thought of naming or even recognising its + component parts. There was no red or yellow or blue or violet, but merely + that which might flash into red and yellow and blue and violet, should + perchance the sun break forth and monopolize the luminosity of the + atmosphere. There was, as it were, a latent opalescence. + </p> + <p> + And every twig and every bough, every branch and every limb, every trunk + and every crack even in the bark was furred with it. It seemed as if the + hoarfrost still continued to form. It looked heavy, and yet it was nearly + without weight. Not a twig was bent down under its load, yet with its halo + of frost it measured fully two inches across. The crystals were large, + formed like spearheads, flat, slablike, yet of infinite thinness and + delicacy, so thin and light that, when by misadventure my whip touched the + boughs, the flakes seemed to float down rather than to fall. And every one + of these flat and angular slabs was fringed with hairlike needles, or with + featherlike needles, and longer needles stood in between. There was such + an air of fragility about it all that you hated to touch it—and I, + for one, took my whip down lest it shook bare too many boughs. + </p> + <p> + Whoever has seen the trees like that—and who has not?—will see + with his mind’s eye what I am trying to suggest rather than to describe. + It was never the single sight nor the isolated thing that made my drives + the things of beauty which they were. There was nothing remarkable in them + either. They were commonplace enough. I really do not know why I should + feel urged to describe our western winters. Whatever I may be able to tell + you about them, is yours to see and yours to interpret. The gifts of + Nature are free to all for the asking. And yet, so it seems to me, there + is in the agglomerations of scenes and impressions, as they followed each + other in my experience, something of the quality of a great symphony; and + I consider this quality as a free and undeserved present which Chance or + Nature shook out of her cornucopia so it happened to fall at my feet. I am + trying to render this quality here for you. + </p> + <p> + On that short mile along the first of the east-west grades, before again I + turned into the bush, I was for the thousandth time in my life struck with + the fact how winter blots out the sins of utility. What is useful, is + often ugly because in our fight for existence we do not always have time + or effort to spare to consider the looks of things. But the slightest + cover of snow will bury the eyesores. Snow is the greatest equalizer in + Nature. No longer are there fields and wild lands, beautiful trails and + ugly grades—all are hidden away under that which comes from Nature’s + purest hands and fertile thoughts alone. Now there was no longer the raw, + offending scar on Nature’s body; just a smooth expanse of snow white + ribbon that led afar. + </p> + <p> + That led afar! And here is a curious fact. On this early December morning—it + was only a little after nine when I started the horses into their trot + again—I noticed for the first time that this grade which sprang here + out of the bush opened up to the east a vista into a seemingly endless + distance. Twenty-six times I had gone along this piece of it, but thirteen + times it had been at night, and thirteen times I had been facing west, + when I went back to the scene of my work. So I had never looked east very + far. This morning, however, in this strange light, which was at this very + hour undergoing a subtle change that I could not define as yet, mile after + mile of road seemed to lift itself up in the far away distance, as if you + might drive on for ever through fairyland. The very fact of its + straightness, flanked as it was by the rows of frosted trees, seemed like + a call. And a feeling that is very familiar to me—that of an + eternity in the perpetuation of whatever may be the state I happen to be + in, came over me, and a desire to go on and on, for ever, and to see what + might be beyond... + </p> + <p> + But then the turn into the bushy trail was reached. I did not see the + slightest sign of it on the road. But Dan seemed infallible—he made + the turn. And again I was in Winter’s enchanted palace, again the slight + whirl in the air that our motion set up made the fairy tracery of the + boughs shower down upon me like snow white petals of flowers, so delicate + that to disturb the virginity of it all seemed like profaning the temple + of the All-Highest. + </p> + <p> + But then I noticed that I had not been the first one to visit the woods. + All over their soft-napped carpet floor there were the restless, fleeting + tracks of the snowflake, lacing and interlacing in lines and loops, as if + they had been assembled in countless numbers, as no doubt they had. And + every track looked like nothing so much as like that kind of embroidery, + done white upon white, which ladies, I think; call the feather stitch. In + places I could clearly see how they had chased and pursued each other, + running, and there was a merriness about their spoors, a suggestion of + swiftness which made me look up and about to see whether they were not + wheeling their restless curves and circles overhead. But in this I was + disappointed for the moment, though only a little later I was to see them + in numbers galore. It was on that last stretch of my road, when I drove + along the dam of the angling ditch. There they came like a whirlwind and + wheeled and curved and circled about as if they knew no enemy, feeding + meanwhile with infallible skill from the tops of seed-bearing weeds while + skimming along. But I am anticipating just now In the bush I saw only + their trails. Yet they suggested their twittering and whistling even + there; and since on the gloomiest day their sound and their sight will + cheer you, you surely cannot help feeling glad and overflowing with joy + when you see any sign of them on a day like this! + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile we were winging along ourselves, so it seemed. For there was the + second east-west grade ahead. And that made me think of wife and child to + whom I was coming like Santa Claus, and so I stopped under a bush that + overhung the trail; and though I hated to destroy even a trifling part of + the beauty around, I reached high up with my whip and let go at the + branches, so that the moment before the horses bolted, the flakes showered + down upon me and my robes and the cutter and changed me into a veritable + snowman in snow white garb. + </p> + <p> + And then up on the grade. One mile to the east, and the bridge appeared. + </p> + <p> + It did not look like the work of man. Apart from its straight lines it + resembled more the architecture of a forest brook as it will build after + heavy fall rains followed by a late drought when all the waters of the + wild are receding so that the icy cover stands above them like the arches + of a bridge. It is strange how rarely the work of man will really + harmonize with Nature. The beaver builds, and his work will blend. Man + builds, and it jars—very likely because he mostly builds with silly + pretensions. But in winter Nature breathes upon his handiwork and + transforms it. Bridges may be imposing and of great artificial beauty in + cities—as for instance the ancient structure that spans the Tiber + just below the tomb of Hadrian, or among modern works the spider web + engineering feat of Brooklyn bridge—but if in the wilderness we run + across them, there is something incongruous about them, and they disturb. + Strange to say, there is the exception of high-flung trellis-viaducts + bridging the chasm of mountain canyons. Maybe it is exactly on account of + their unpretentious, plain utility; or is it that they reconcile by their + overweening boldness, by their very paradoxality—as there is beauty + even in the hawk’s bloodthirsty savagery. To-day this bridge was, like the + grades, like the trees and the meadows furred over with opalescent, + feathery frost. + </p> + <p> + And the dam over which I am driving now! This dam that erstwhile was a + very blasphemy, an obscenity flung on the marshy meadows with their reeds, + their cat-tails, and their wide-leaved swamp-dock clusters! It had been + used by the winds as a veritable dumping ground for obnoxious weeds which + grew and thrived on the marly clay while every other plant despised it! + Not that I mean to decry weeds—far be it from me. When the goldenrod + flings its velvet cushions along the edge of the copses, or when the + dandelion spangles the meadows, they are things of beauty as well as any + tulip or tiger-lily. But when they or their rivals, silverweed, burdock, + false ragweed, thistles, gumweed, and others usurp the landscape and seem + to choke up the very earth and the very air with ceaseless monotony and + repetition, then they become an offence to the eye and a reproach to those + who tolerate them. To-day, however, they all lent their stalks to support + the hoarfrost, to double and quadruple its total mass. They were powdered + over with countless diamonds. + </p> + <p> + It was here that I met with the flocks of snowflakes; and if my joyous + mood had admitted of any enhancement, they would have given it. + </p> + <p> + And never before had I seen the school and the cottage from quite so far! + The haze was still there, but somehow it seemed to be further overhead + now, with a stratum of winterclear air underneath. Once before, when + driving along the first east-west grade, where I discovered the vista, I + had wondered at the distance to which the eye could pierce. Here, on the + dam, of course, my vision was further aided by the fact that whatever of + trees and shrubs there was in the way—and a ridge of poplars ran at + right angles to the ditch, throwing up a leafy curtain in summer—stood + bare of its foliage. I was still nearly four miles from my “home” when I + first beheld it. And how pitiably lonesome it looked! Not another house + was to be seen in its neighbourhood. I touched the horses up with my whip. + I felt as if I should fly across the distance and bring my presence to + those in the cottage as their dearest gift. They knew I was coming. They + were at this very moment flying to meet me with their thoughts. Was I + well? Was I finding everything as I had wished to find it? And though I + often told them how I loved and enjoyed my drives, they could not view + them but with much anxiety, for they were waiting, waiting, waiting... + Waiting on Thursday for Friday to come, waiting on Wednesday and Tuesday + and Monday—waiting on Sunday even, as soon as I had left; counting + the days, and the hours, and the minutes, till I was out, fighting storm + and night to my heart’s content! And then—worry, worry, worry—what + might not happen! Whatever my drives were to me, to them they were + horrors. There never were watchers of weather and sky so anxiously eager + as they! And when, as it often, too often happened, the winter storms + came, when care rose, hope fell, then eye was clouded, thought dulled, + heart aflutter... Sometimes the soul sought comfort from nearest + neighbours, and not always was it vouchsafed. “Well,” they would say, “if + he starts out to-day, he will kill his horses!”—or, “In weather like + this I should not care to drive five miles!”—Surely, surely, I owe + it to them, staunch, faithful hearts that they were, to set down this + record so it may gladden the lonesome twilight hours that are sure to + come... + </p> + <p> + And at last I swung west again, up the ridge and on to the yard. And there + on the porch stood the tall, young, smiling woman, and at her knee the + fairest-haired girl in all the world. And quite unconscious of Nature’s + wonder-garb, though doubtlessly gladdened by it the little girl shrilled + out, “Oh, Daddy, Daddy, did du see Santa Claus?” And I replied lustily, + “Of course, my girl, I am coming straight from his palace.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FOUR. Snow + </h2> + <p> + The blizzard started on Wednesday morning. It was that rather common, + truly western combination of a heavy snowstorm with a blinding northern + gale—such as piles the snow in hills and mountains and makes walking + next to impossible. + </p> + <p> + I cannot exactly say that I viewed it with unmingled joy. There were + special reasons for that. It was the second week in January; when I had + left “home” the Sunday before, I had been feeling rather bad; so my wife + would worry a good deal, especially if I did not come at all. I knew there + was such a thing as its becoming quite impossible to make the drive. I had + been lost in a blizzard once or twice before in my lifetime. And yet, so + long as there was the least chance that horse-power and human will-power + combined might pull me through at all, I was determined to make or anyway + to try it. + </p> + <p> + At noon I heard the first dismal warning. For some reason or other I had + to go down into the basement of the school. The janitor, a highly + efficient but exceedingly bad-humoured cockney, who was dissatisfied with + all things Canadian because “in the old country we do things differently”—whose + sharp tongue was feared by many, and who once remarked to a lady teacher + in the most casual way, “If you was a lidy, I’d wipe my boots on you!”—this + selfsame janitor, standing by the furnace, turned slowly around, showed + his pale and hollow-eyed face, and smiled a withering and commiserating + smile. “Ye won’t go north this week,” he remarked—not without + sympathy, for somehow he had taken a liking to me, which even prompted him + off and on to favor me with caustic expressions of what he thought of the + school board and the leading citizens of the town. I, of course, never + encouraged him in his communicativeness which seemed to be just what he + would expect, and no rebuff ever goaded him into the slightest show of + resentment. “We’ll see,” I said briefly “Well, Sir,” he repeated + apodeictically, “ye won’t.” I smiled and went out. + </p> + <p> + But in my classroom I looked from the window across the street. Not even + in broad daylight could you see the opposite houses or trees. And I knew + that, once a storm like that sets in, it is apt to continue for days at a + stretch. It was one of those orgies in which Titan Wind indulges ever so + often on our western prairies. I certainly needed something to encourage + me, and so, before leaving the building, I went upstairs to the third + story and looked through a window which faced north. But, though I was now + above the drifting layer, I could not see very far here either; the + snowflakes were small and like little round granules, hitting the panes of + the windows with little sounds of “ping-ping”; and they came, driven by a + relentless gale, in such numbers that they blotted out whatever was more + than two or three hundred yards away. + </p> + <p> + The inhabitant of the middle latitudes of this continent has no data to + picture to himself what a snowstorm in the north may be. To him snow is + something benign that comes soft-footedly over night, and on the most + silent wings like an owl, something that suggests the sleep of Nature + rather than its battles. The further south you go, the more, of course, + snow loses of its aggressive character. + </p> + <p> + At the dinner table in the hotel I heard a few more disheartening words. + But after four I defiantly got my tarpaulin out and carried it to the + stable. If I had to run the risk of getting lost, at least I was going to + prepare for it. I had once stayed out, snow-bound, for a day and a half, + nearly without food and altogether without shelter; and I was not going to + get thus caught again. I also carefully overhauled my cutter. Not a bolt + but I tested it with a wrench; and before the stores were closed, I bought + myself enough canned goods to feed me for a week should through any + untoward accident the need arise. I always carried a little alcohol stove, + and with my tarpaulin I could convert my cutter within three minutes into + a windproof tent. Cramped quarters, to be sure, but better than being + given over to the wind at thirty below! + </p> + <p> + More than any remark on the part of friends or acquaintances one fact + depressed me when I went home. There was not a team in town which had come + in from the country. The streets were deserted: the stores were empty. The + north wind and the snow had the town to themselves. + </p> + <p> + On Thursday the weather was unchanged. On the way to the school I had to + scale a snowdrift thrown up to a height of nearly six feet, and, though it + was beginning to harden, from its own weight and the pressure of the wind, + I still broke in at every step and found the task tiring in the extreme. I + did my work, of course, as if nothing oppressed me, but in my heart I was + beginning to face the possibility that, even if I tried, I might fail to + reach my goal. The day passed by. At noon the school-children, the + teachers, and a few people hurrying to the post-office for their mail lent + a fleeting appearance of life to the streets. It nearly cheered me; but + soon after four the whole town again took on that deserted look which + reminded me of an abandoned mining camp. The lights in the store windows + had something artificial about them, as if they were merely painted on the + canvas-wings of a stage-setting. Not a team came in all day. + </p> + <p> + On Friday morning the same. Burroughs would have said that the weather had + gone into a rut. Still the wind whistled and howled through the bleak, + dark, hollow dawn; the snow kept coming down and piling up, as if it could + not be any otherwise. And as if to give notice of its intentions, the + drift had completely closed up my front door. I fought my way to the + school and thought things over. My wife and I had agreed, if ever the + weather should be so bad that there was danger in going at night, I was to + wait till Saturday morning and go by daylight. Neither one of us ever + mentioned the possibility of giving the attempt up altogether. My wife + probably understood that I would not bind myself by any such promise. Now + even on this Friday I should have liked to go by night, if for no other + reason, than for the experience’s sake; but I reflected that I might get + lost and not reach home at all. The horses knew the road—so long as + there was any road; but there was none now. I felt it would not be fair to + wife and child. So, reluctantly and with much hesitation, but definitely + at last, I made up my mind that I was going to wait till morning. My + cutter was ready—I had seen to that on Wednesday. As soon as the + storm had set in, I had instinctively started to work in order to + frustrate its designs. + </p> + <p> + At noon I met in front of the post-office a charming lady who with her + husband and a young Anglican curate constituted about the only circle of + real friends I had in town. “Why!” I exclaimed, “what takes you out into + this storm, Mrs. ——?” “The desire,” she gasped against the + wind and yet in her inimitable way, as if she were asking a favour, “to + have you come to our house for tea, my friend. You surely are not going + this week?” “I am going to go to-morrow morning at seven,” I said. “But I + shall be delighted to have tea with you and Mr. ——.” I read + her at a glance. She knew that in not going out at night I should suffer—she + wished to help me over the evening, so I should not feel too much + thwarted, too helpless, and too lonesome. She smiled. “You really want to + go? But I must not keep you. At six, if you please.” And we went our ways + without a salute, for none was possible at this gale-swept corner. + </p> + <p> + After four o’clock I took word to the stable to have my horses fed and + harnessed by seven in the morning. The hostler had a tale to tell. “You + going out north?” he enquired although he knew perfectly well I was. “Of + course,” I replied. “Well,” he went on, “a man came in from ten miles out; + he was half dead; come, look at his horses! He says, in places the snow is + over the telephone posts.” “I’ll try it anyway,” I said. “Just have the + team ready I know what I can ask my horses to do. If it cannot be done, I + shall turn back, that is all.” + </p> + <p> + When I stepped outside again, the wind seemed bent upon shaking the + strongest faith. I went home to my house across the bridge and dressed. As + soon as I was ready, I allowed myself to be swept past stable, past hotel + and post-office till I reached the side street which led to the house + where I was to be the guest. + </p> + <p> + How sheltered, homelike and protected everything looked inside. The + hostess, as usual, was radiantly amiable. The host settled back after + supper to talk old country. The Channel Islands, the French Coast, Kent + and London—those were from common knowledge our most frequently + recurring topics. Both host and hostess, that was easy to see, were bent + upon beguiling the hours of their rather dark-humored guest. But the + howling gale outside was stronger than their good intentions. It was not + very long before the conversation got around—reverted, so it seemed—to + stories of storms, of being lost, of nearly freezing. The boys were + sitting with wide and eager eyes, afraid they might be sent to bed before + the feast of yarns was over. I told one or two of my most thrilling + escapes, the host contributed a few more, and even the hostess had had an + experience, driving on top of a railroad track for several miles, I + believe, with a train, snowbound, behind her. I leaned over. “Mrs. ——,” + I said, “do not try to dissuade me. I am sorry to say it, but it is + useless. I am bound to go.” “Well,” she said, “I wish you would not.” + “Thanks,” I replied and looked at my watch. It was two o’clock. “There is + only one thing wrong with coming to have tea in this home,” I continued + and smiled; “it is so hard to say good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + I carefully lighted my lantern and got into my wraps. The wind was howling + dismally outside. For a moment we stood in the hall, shaking hands and + paying the usual compliments; then one of the boys opened the door for me; + and in stepping out I had one of the greatest surprises. Not far from the + western edge of the world there stood the setting half-moon in a cloudless + sky; myriads of stars were dusted over the vast, dark blue expanse, + twinkling and blazing at their liveliest. And though the wind still + whistled and shrieked and rattled, no snow came down, and not much seemed + to drift. I pointed to the sky, smiled, nodded and closed the door. As far + as the drifting of the snow went, I was mistaken, as I found out when I + turned to the north, into the less sheltered street, past the post-office, + hotel and stable. In front of a store I stopped to read a thermometer + which I had found halfways reliable the year before. It read minus + thirty-two degrees... + </p> + <p> + It was still dark, of course, when I left the house on Saturday morning to + be on my way. Also, it was cold, bitterly cold, but there was very little + wind. In crossing the bridge which was swept nearly clean of snow I + noticed a small, but somehow ominous-looking drift at the southern end. It + had such a disturbed, lashed-up appearance. The snow was still loose, yet + packed just hard enough to have a certain degree of toughness. You could + no longer swing your foot through it: had you run into it at any great + speed, you would have fallen; but as yet it was not hard enough to carry + you. I knew that kind of a drift; it is treacherous. On a later drive one + just like it, only built on a vastly larger scale, was to lead to the + first of a series of little accidents which finally shattered my nerve. + That was the only time that my temerity failed me. I shall tell you about + that drive later on. + </p> + <p> + At the stable I went about my preparations in a leisurely way. I knew that + a supreme test was ahead of myself and the horses, and I meant to have + daylight for tackling it. Once more I went over the most important bolts; + once more I felt and pulled at every strap in the harness. I had a Clark + footwarmer and made sure that it functioned properly I pulled the flaps of + my military fur cap down over neck, ears and cheeks. I tucked a pillow + under the sweater over my chest and made sure that my leggings clasped my + furlined moccasins well. Then, to prevent my coat from opening even under + the stress of motion, just before I got into the cutter, I tied a rope + around my waist. + </p> + <p> + The hostler brought the horses into the shed. They pawed the floor and + snorted with impatience. While I rolled my robes about my legs and drew + the canvas curtain over the front part of the box, I weighed Dan with my + eyes. I had no fear for Peter, but Dan would have to show to-day that he + deserved the way I had fed and nursed him. Like a chain, the strength of + which is measured by the strength of its weakest link, my team was + measured by Dan’s pulling power and endurance. But he looked good to me as + he danced across the pole and threw his head, biting back at Peter who was + teasing him. + </p> + <p> + The hostler was morose and in a biting mood. Every motion of his seemed to + say, “What is the use of all this? No teamster would go out on a long + drive in this weather, till the snow has settled down; and here a + schoolmaster wants to try it.” + </p> + <p> + At last he pushed the slide doors aside, and we swung out. I held the + horses tight and drove them into that little drift at the bridge to slow + them down right from the start. + </p> + <p> + The dawn was white, but with a strictly localised angry glow where the sun + was still hidden below the horizon. In a very few minutes he would be up, + and I counted on making that first mile just before he appeared. + </p> + <p> + This mile is a wide, well levelled road, but ever so often, at intervals + of maybe fifty to sixty yards, steep and long promontories of snow had + been flung across—some of them five to six feet high. They started + at the edge of the field to the left where a rank growth of shrubby weeds + gave shelter for the snow to pile in. Their base, alongside the fence, was + broad, and they tapered across the road, with a perfectly flat top, and + with concave sides of a most delicate, smooth, and finished looking curve, + till at last they ran out into a sharp point, mostly beyond the road on + the field to the right. + </p> + <p> + The wind plays strange pranks with snow; snow is the most plastic medium + it has to mould into images and symbols of its moods. Here one of these + promontories would slope down, and the very next one would slope upward as + it advanced across the open space. In every case there had been two walls, + as it were, of furious blow, and between the two a lane of comparative + calm, caused by the shelter of a clump of brush or weeds, in which the + snow had taken refuge from the wind’s rough and savage play. Between these + capes of snow there was an occasional bare patch of clean swept ground. + Altogether there was an impression of barren, wild, bitter-cold windiness + about the aspect that did not fail to awe my mind; it looked inhospitable, + merciless, and cruelly playful. + </p> + <p> + As yet the horses seemed to take only delight in dashing through the + drifts, so that the powdery crystals flew aloft and dusted me all over. I + peered across the field to the left, and a curious sight struck me. There + was apparently no steady wind at all, but here and there, and every now + and then a little whirl of snow would rise and fall again. Every one of + them looked for all the world like a rabbit reconnoitring in deep grass. + It jumps up on its hindlegs, while running, peers out, and settles down + again. It was as if the snow meant to have a look at me, the interloper at + such an early morning hour. The snow was so utterly dry that it obeyed the + lightest breath; and whatever there was of motion in the air, could not + amount to more than a cat’s-paw’s sudden reach. + </p> + <p> + At the exact moment when the snow where it stood up highest became + suffused with a rose-red tint from the rising sun, I arrived at the turn + to the correction line. Had I been a novice at the work I was engaged in, + the sight that met my eye might well have daunted me. Such drifts as I saw + here should be broken by drivers who have short hauls to make before the + long distance traveller attempts them. From the fence on the north side of + the road a smoothly curved expanse covered the whole of the road allowance + and gently sloped down into the field at my left. Its north edge stood + like a cliff, the exact height of the fence, four feet I should say. In + the centre it rose to probably six feet and then fell very gradually, + whaleback fashion, to the south. Not one of the fence posts to the left + was visible. The slow emergence of the tops of these fence posts became + during the following week, when I drove out here daily, a measure for me + of the settling down of the drift. I believe I can say from my + observations that if no new snow falls or drifts in, and if no very + considerable evaporation takes place, a newly piled snowdrift, undisturbed + except by wind-pressure, will finally settle down to about from one third + to one half of its original height, according to the pressure of the wind + that was behind the snow when it first was thrown down. After it has, in + this contracting process, reached two thirds of its first height, it can + usually be relied upon to carry horse and man. + </p> + <p> + The surface of this drift, which covered a ditch besides the grade and its + grassy flanks, showed that curious appearance that we also find in the + glaciated surfaces of granite rock and which, in them, geologists call + exfoliation. In the case of rock it is the consequence of extreme changes + in temperature. The surface sheet in expanding under sudden heat detaches + itself in large, leaflike layers. In front of my wife’s cottage up north + there lay an exfoliated rock in which I watched the process for a number + of years. In snow, of course, the origin of this appearance is entirely + different; snow is laid down in layers by the waves in the wind. + “Adfoliation” would be a more nearly correct appellation of the process. + But from the analogy of the appearance I shall retain the more common word + and call it exfoliation. Layers upon layers of paperlike sheets are + superimposed upon each other, their edges often “cropping out” on sloping + surfaces; and since these edges, according to the curvatures of the + surfaces, run in wavy lines, the total aspect is very often that of + “moire” silk. + </p> + <p> + I knew the road as well as I had ever known a road. In summer there was a + grassy expanse some thirty feet wide to the north; then followed the + grade, flanked to the south by a ditch; and the tangle of weeds and small + brush beyond reached right up to the other fence. I had to stay on or + rather above the grade; so I stood up and selected the exact spot where to + tackle it. Later, I knew, this drift would be harmless enough; there was + sufficient local traffic here to establish a well-packed trail. At + present, however, it still seemed a formidable task for a team that was to + pull me over thirty-three miles more. Besides it was a first test for my + horses; I did not know yet how they would behave in snow. + </p> + <p> + But we went at it. For a moment things happened too fast for me to watch + details. The horses plunged wildly and reared on their hind feet in a + panic, straining against each other, pulling apart, going down underneath + the pole, trying to turn and retrace their steps. And meanwhile the cutter + went sharply up at first, as if on the crest of a wave, then toppled over + into a hole made by Dan, and altogether behaved like a boat tossed on a + stormy sea. Then order returned into the chaos. I had the lines short, + wrapped double and treble around my wrists; my feet stood braced in the + corner of the box, knees touching the dashboard; my robes slipped down. I + spoke to the horses in a soft, quiet, purring voice; and at last I pulled + in. Peter hated to stand. I held him. Then I looked back. This first wild + plunge had taken us a matter of two hundred yards into the drift. Peter + pulled and champed at the bit; the horses were sinking nearly out of + sight. But I knew that many and many a time in the future I should have to + go through just this and that from the beginning I must train the horses + to tackle it right. So, in spite of my aching wrists I kept them standing + till I thought that they were fully breathed. Then I relaxed my pull the + slightest bit and clicked my tongue. “Good,” I thought, “they are pulling + together!” And I managed to hold them in line. They reared and plunged + again like drowning things in their last agony, but they no longer clashed + against nor pulled away from each other. I measured the distance with my + eye. Another two hundred yards or thereabout, and I pulled them in again. + Thus we stopped altogether four times. The horses were steaming when we + got through this drift which was exactly half a mile long; my cutter was + packed level full with slabs and clods of snow; and I was pretty well + exhausted myself. + </p> + <p> + “If there is very much of this,” I thought for the moment, “I may not be + able to make it.” But then I knew that a north-south road will drift in + badly only under exceptional circumstances. It is the east-west grades + that are most apt to give trouble. Not that I minded my part of it, but I + did not mean to kill my horses. I had sized them up in their behaviour + towards snow. Peter, as I had expected, was excitable. It was hard to + recognize in him just now, as he walked quietly along, the uproar of + playing muscle and rearing limbs that he had been when we first struck the + snow. That was well and good for a short, supreme effort; but not even for + Peter would it do in the long, endless drifts which I had to expect. Dan + was quieter, but he did not have Peter’s staying power, in fact, he was + not really a horse for the road. Strange, in spite of his usual keenness + on the level road, he seemed to show more snow sense in the drift. This + was to be amply confirmed in the future. Whenever an accident happened, it + was Peter’s fault. As you will see if you read on, Dan once lay quiet when + Peter stood right on top of him. + </p> + <p> + On this road north I found the same “promontories” that had been such a + feature of the first one, flung across from the northwest to the + southeast. Since the clumps of shrubs to the left were larger here, and + more numerous, too, the drifts occasionally also were larger and higher; + but not one of them was such that the horses could not clear it with one + or two leaps. The sun was climbing, the air was winter-clear and still. + None of the farms which I passed showed the slightest sign of life. I had + wrapped up again and sat in comparative comfort and at ease, enjoying the + clear sparkle and glitter of the virgin snow. It was not till considerably + later that the real significance of the landscape dawned upon my + consciousness. Still there was even now in my thoughts a speculative + undertone. Subconsciously I wondered what might be ahead of me. + </p> + <p> + We made Bell’s corner in good time. The mile to the west proved easy. + There were drifts, it is true, and the going was heavy, but at no place + did the snow for any length of time reach higher than the horses’ hocks. + We turned to the north again, and here, for a while, the road was very + good indeed; the underbrush to the left, on those expanses of wild land, + had fettered, as it were, the feet of the wind. The snow was held + everywhere, and very little of it had drifted. Only one spot I remember + where a clump of Russian willow close to the trail had offered shelter + enough to allow the wind to fill in the narrow road-gap to a depth of + maybe eight or nine feet; but here it was easy to go around to the west. + Without any further incident we reached the point where the useless, + supernumerary fence post had caught my eye on my first trip out. I had + made nearly eight miles now. + </p> + <p> + But right here I was to get my first inkling of sights that might shatter + my nerve. You may remember that a grove of tall poplars ran to the east, + skirted along its southern edge by a road and a long line of telephone + posts. Now here, in this shelter of the poplars, the snow from the more or + less level and unsheltered spaces to the northwest had piled in indeed. It + sloped up to the east; and never shall I forget what I beheld. + </p> + <p> + The first of the posts stood a foot in snow; at the second one the drift + reached six or seven feet up; the next one looked only half as long as the + first one, and you might have imagined, standing as it did on a sloping + hillside, that it had intentionally been made so much shorter than the + others; but at the bottom of the visible part the wind, in sweeping around + the pole, had scooped out a funnel-shaped crater which seemed to open into + the very earth like a sinkhole. The next pole stood like a giant buried up + to his chest and looked singularly helpless and footbound; and the last + one I saw showed just its crossbar with three glassy, green insulators + above the mountain of snow. The whole surface of this gigantic drift + showed again that “exfoliated” appearance which I have described. Strange + to say, this very exfoliation gave it something of a quite peculiarly + desolate aspect. It looked so harsh, so millennial-old, so antediluvian + and pre-adamic! I still remember with particular distinctness the slight + dizziness that overcame me, the sinking feeling in my heart, the awe, and + the foreboding that I had challenged a force in Nature which might defy + all tireless effort and the most fearless heart. + </p> + <p> + So the hostler had not been fibbing after all! + </p> + <p> + But not for a moment did I think of turning back. I am fatalistic in + temperament. What is to be, is to be, that is not my outlook. If at last + we should get bound up in a drift, well and good, I should then see what + the next move would have to be. While the wind blows, snow drifts; while + my horses could walk and I was not disabled, my road led north, not south. + Like the snow I obeyed the laws of my nature. So far the road was good, + and we swung along. + </p> + <p> + Somewhere around here a field presented a curious view Its crop had not + been harvested; it still stood in stooks. But from my side I saw nothing + of the sheaves—it seemed to be flax, for here and there a flag of + loose heads showed at the top. The snow had been blown up from all + directions, so it looked, by the counter-currents that set up in the lee + of every obstacle. These mounds presented one and all the appearance of + cones or pyramids of butter patted into shape by upward strokes made with + a spoon. There were the sharp ridges, irregular and erratic, and there + were the hollows running up their flanks—exactly as such a cone of + butter will show them. And the whole field was dotted with them, as if + there were so many fresh graves. + </p> + <p> + I made the twelve-mile bridge—passing through the cottonwood gate—reached + the “hovel,” and dropped into the wilderness again. Here the bigger trees + stood strangely bare. Winter reveals the bark and the “habit” of trees. + All ornaments and unessentials have been dropped. The naked skeletons show + I remember how I was more than ever struck by that dappled appearance of + the bark of the balm: an olive-green, yellowish hue, ridged and spotted + with the black of ancient, overgrown leaf-scars; there was actually + something gay about it; these poplars are certainly beautiful winter + trees. The aspens were different. Although their stems stood white on + white in the snow, that greenish tinge in their white gave them a curious + look. From the picture that I carry about in my memory of this morning I + cannot help the impression that they looked as if their white were not + natural at all; they looked white-washed! I have often since confirmed + this impression when there was snow on the ground. + </p> + <p> + In the copses of saplings the zigzagging of the boles from twig to twig + showed very distinctly, more so, I believe, than to me it had ever done + before. How slender and straight they look in their summer garb—now + they were stripped, and bone and sinew appeared. + </p> + <p> + We came to the “half way farms,” and the marsh lay ahead. I watered the + horses, and I do not know what made me rest them for a little while, but I + did. On the yard of the farm where I had turned in there was not a soul to + be seen. Barns and stables were closed—and I noticed that the back + door of the dwelling was buried tight by the snow. No doubt everybody + preferred the neighbourhood of the fire to the cold outside. While + stopping, I faced for the first time the sun. He was high in the sky by + now—it was half-past ten—and it suddenly came home to me that + there was something relentless, inexorable, cruel, yes, something of a + sneer in the pitiless way in which he looked down on the infertile waste + around. Unaccountably two Greek words formed on my lips: Homer’s Pontos + atrygetos—the barren sea. Half an hour later I was to realize the + significance of it. + </p> + <p> + I turned back to the road and north again. For another half mile the + fields continued on either side; but somehow they seemed to take on a + sinister look. There was more snow on them than I had found on the level + land further south; the snow lay more smoothly, again under those + “exfoliated” surface sheets which here, too, gave it an inhuman, primeval + look; in the higher sun the vast expanse looked, I suppose, more + blindingly white; and nowhere did buildings or thickets seem to emerge. + Yet, so long as the grade continued, the going was fair enough. + </p> + <p> + Then I came to the corner which marked half the distance, and there I + stopped. Right in front, where the trail had been and where a ditch had + divided off the marsh, a fortress of snow lay now: a seemingly impregnable + bulwark, six or seven feet high, with rounded top, fitting descriptions + which I had read of the underground bomb-proofs around Belgian strongholds—those + forts which were hammered to pieces by the Germans in their first, + heart-breaking forward surge in 1914. There was not a wrinkle in this + inverted bowl. There it lay, smooth and slick—curled up in security, + as it were, some twenty, thirty feet across; and behind it others, and + more of them to the right and to the left. This had been a stretch, + covered with brush and bush, willow and poplar thickets; but my eye saw + nothing except a mammiferous waste, cruelly white, glittering in the + heatless, chuckling sun, and scoffing at me, the intruder. I stood up + again and peered out. To the east it seemed as if these buttes of snow + were a trifle lower; but maybe the ground underneath also sloped down. I + wished I had travelled here more often by daytime, so I might know. As it + was, there was nothing to it; I had to tackle the task. And we plunged in. + </p> + <p> + I had learned something from my first experience in the drift one mile + north of town, and I kept my horses well under control. Still, it was a + wild enough dash. Peter lost his footing two or three times and worked + himself into a mild panic. But Dan—I could not help admiring the way + in which, buried over his back in snow, he would slowly and deliberately + rear on his hindfeet and take his bound. For fully five minutes I never + saw anything of the horses except their heads. I inferred their motions + from the dusting snowcloud that rose above their bodies and settled on + myself. And then somehow we emerged. We reached a stretch of ground where + the snow was just high enough to cover the hocks of the horses. It was a + hollow scooped out by some freak of the wind. I pulled in, and the horses + stood panting. Peter no longer showed any desire to fret and to jump. Both + horses apparently felt the wisdom of sparing their strength. They were all + white with the frost of their sweat and the spray of the snow... + </p> + <p> + While I gave them their time, I looked around, and here a lesson came home + to me. In the hollow where we stood, the snow did not lie smoothly. A huge + obstacle to the northwest, probably a buried clump of brush, had made the + wind turn back upon itself, first downward, then, at the bottom of the + pit, in a direction opposite to that of the main current above, and + finally slantways upward again to the summit of the obstacle, where it + rejoined the parent blow. The floor of the hollow was cleanly scooped out + and chiselled in low ridges; and these ridges came from the southeast, + running their points to the northwest. I learned to look out for this + sign, and I verily believe that, had I not learned that lesson right now, + I should never have reached the creek which was still four or five miles + distant. + </p> + <p> + The huge mound in the lee of which I was stopping was a matter of two + hundred yards away; nearer to it the snow was considerably deeper; and + since it presented an appearance very characteristic of Prairie + bush-drifts, I shall describe it in some detail. Apparently the winds had + first bent over all the stems of the clump; for whenever I saw one of them + from the north, it showed a smooth, clean upward sweep. On the south side + the snow first fell in a sheer cliff; then there was a hollow which was + partly filled by a talus-shaped drift thrown in by the counter currents + from the southern pit in which we were stopping; the sides of this talus + again showed the marks that reminded of those left by the spoon when + butter is roughly stroked into the shape of a pyramid. The interesting + parts of the structure consisted in the beetling brow of the cliff and the + roof of the cavity underneath. The brow had a honeycombed appearance; the + snow had been laid down in layers of varying density (I shall discuss this + more fully in the next chapter when we are going to look in on the snow + while it is actually at work); and the counter currents that here swept + upward in a slanting direction had bitten out the softer layers, leaving a + fine network of little ridges which reminded strangely of the delicate + fretwork-tracery in wind-sculptured rock—as I had seen it in the + Black Hills in South Dakota. This piece of work of the wind is exceedingly + short-lived in snow, and it must not be confounded with the honeycombed + appearance of those faces of snow cliffs which are “rotting” by reason of + their exposure to the heat of the noonday sun. These latter are coarse, + often dirty, and nearly always have something bristling about them which + is entirely absent in the sculptures of the wind. The under side of the + roof in the cavity looked very much as a very stiff or viscid treacle + would look when spread over a meshy surface, as, for instance, over a + closely woven netting of wire. The stems and the branches of the brush + took the place of the wire, and in their meshes the snow had been pressed + through by its own weight, but held together by its curious ductility or + tensile strength of which I was to find further evidence soon enough. It + thus formed innumerable, blunted little stalactites, but without the + corresponding stalagmites which you find in limestone caves or on the + north side of buildings when the snow from the roof thaws and forms + icicles and slender cones of ice growing up to meet them from the ground + where the trickling drops fall and freeze again. + </p> + <p> + By the help of these various tokens I had picked my next resting place + before we started up again. It was on this second dash that I understood + why those Homeric words had come to my lips a while ago. This was indeed + like nothing so much as like being out on rough waters and in a troubled + sea, with nothing to brace the storm with but a wind-tossed nutshell of a + one-man sailing craft. I knew that experience for having outridden many a + gale in the mouth of the mighty St. Lawrence River. When the snow reached + its extreme in depth, it gave you the feeling which a drowning man may + have when fighting his desperate fight with the salty waves. But more + impressive than that was the frequent outer resemblance. The waves of the + ocean rise up and reach out and batter against the rocks and battlements + of the shore, retreating again and ever returning to the assault, covering + the obstacles thrown in the way of their progress with thin sheets of + licking tongues at least. And if such a high crest wave had suddenly been + frozen into solidity, its outline would have mimicked to perfection many a + one of the snow shapes that I saw around. + </p> + <p> + Once the horses had really learned to pull exactly together—and they + learned it thoroughly here—our progress was not too bad. Of course, + it was not like going on a grade, be it ever so badly drifted in. Here the + ground underneath, too, was uneven and overgrown with a veritable + entanglement of brush in which often the horses’ feet would get caught. As + for the road, there was none left, nothing that even by the boldest + stretch of imagination could have been considered even as the slightest + indication of one. And worst of all, I knew positively that there would be + no trail at any time during the winter. I was well aware of the fact that, + after it once snowed up, nobody ever crossed this waste between the “half + way farms” and the “White Range Line House.” This morning it took me two + and a half solid hours to make four miles. + </p> + <p> + But the ordeal had its reward. Here where the fact that there was snow on + the ground, and plenty of it, did no longer need to be sunk into my brain—as + soon as it had lost its value as a piece of news and a lesson, I began to + enjoy it just as the hunter in India will enjoy the battle of wits when he + is pitted against a yellow-black tiger. I began to catch on to the ways of + this snow; I began, as it were, to study the mentality of my enemy. Though + I never kill, I am after all something of a sportsman. And still another + thing gave me back that mental equilibrium which you need in order to see + things and to reason calmly about them. Every dash of two hundred yards or + so brought me that much nearer to my goal. Up to the “half way farms” I + had, as it were, been working uphill: there was more ahead than behind. + This was now reversed: there was more behind than ahead, and as yet I did + not worry about the return trip. + </p> + <p> + Now I have already said that snow is the only really plastic element in + which the wind can carve the vagaries of its mood and leave a record of at + least some permanency. The surface of the sea is a wonderful book to be + read with a lightning-quick eye; I do not know anything better to do as a + cure for ragged nerves—provided you are a good sailor. But the forms + are too fleeting, they change too quickly—so quickly, indeed, that I + have never succeeded in so fixing their record upon my memory as to be + able to develop one form from the other in descriptive notes. It is that + very fact, I believe, upon which hinges the curative value of the sight: + you are so completely absorbed by the moment, and all other things fall + away. Many and many a day have I lain in my deck chair on board a liner + and watched the play of the waves; but the pleasure, which was very great + indeed, was momentary; and sometimes, when in an unsympathetic mood, I + have since impatiently wondered in what that fascination may have + consisted. It was different here. Snow is very nearly as yielding as water + and, once it fully responds in its surface to the carving forces of the + wind, it stays—as if frozen into the glittering marble image of its + motion. I know few things that are as truly fascinating as the sculptures + of the wind in snow; for here you have time and opportunity a-plenty to + probe not only into the what, but also into the why. Maybe that one day I + shall write down a fuller account of my observations. In this report I + shall have to restrict myself to a few indications, for this is not the + record of the whims of the wind, but merely the narrative of my drives. + </p> + <p> + In places, for instance, the rounded, “bomb-proof” aspect of the expanses + would be changed into the distinct contour of gigantic waves with a very + fine, very sharp crest-line. The upsweep from the northwest would be ever + so slightly convex, and the downward sweep into the trough was always very + distinctly concave. This was not the ripple which we find in beach sand. + That ripple was there, too, and in places it covered the wide backs of + these huge waves all over; but never was it found on the concave side. + Occasionally, but rarely, one of these great waves would resemble a large + breaker with a curly crest. Here the onward sweep from the northwest had + built the snow out, beyond the supporting base, into a thick overhanging + ledge which here and there had sagged; but by virtue of that tensile + strength and cohesion in snow which I have mentioned already, it still + held together and now looked convoluted and ruffled in the most deceiving + way. I believe I actually listened for the muffled roar which the breaker + makes when its subaqueous part begins to sweep the upward sloping beach. + To make this illusion complete, or to break it by the very absurdity and + exaggeration of a comparison drawn out too far—I do not know which—there + would, every now and then, from the crest of one of these waves, jut out + something which closely resembled the wide back of a large fish diving + down into the concave side towards the trough. This looked very much like + porpoises or dolphins jumping in a heaving sea; only that in my memory + picture the real dolphins always jump in the opposite direction, against + the run of the waves, bridging the trough. + </p> + <p> + In other places a fine, exceedingly delicate crest-line would spring up + from the high point of some buried obstacle and sweep along in the most + graceful curve as far as the eye would carry I particularly remember one + of them, and I could discover no earthly reason for the curvature in it. + </p> + <p> + Again there would be a triangular—or should I say “tetrahedral”?—up-sweep + from the direction of the wind, ending in a sharp, perfectly plane + down-sweep on the south side; and the point of this three-sided but + oblique pyramid would hang over like the flap of a tam. There was + something of the consistency of very thick cloth about this overhanging + flap. + </p> + <p> + Or an up-slope from the north would end in a long, nearly perpendicular + cliff-line facing south. And the talus formation which I have mentioned + would be perfectly smooth; but it did not reach quite to the top of the + cliff, maybe to within a foot of it. The upsloping layer from the north + would hang out again, with an even brow; but between this smooth cornice + and the upper edge of the talus the snow looked as if it had been squeezed + out by tremendous pressure from above, like an exceedingly viscid liquid—cooling + glue, for instance, which is being squeezed out from between the core and + the veneer in a veneering press. + </p> + <p> + Once I passed close to and south of, two thickets which were completely + buried by the snow. Between them a ditch had been scooped out in a very + curious fashion. It resembled exactly a winding river bed with its water + drained off; it was two or three feet deep, and wherever it turned, its + banks were undermined on the “throw” side by the “wash” of the furious + blow. The analogy between the work of the wind and the work of flowing + water constantly obtrudes, especially where this work is one of “erosion.” + </p> + <p> + But as flowing water will swing up and down in the most surprising forms + where the bed of the river is rough with rocks and throws it into choppy + waves which do not seem to move, so the snow was thrown up into the most + curious forms where the frozen swamp ground underneath had bubbled, as it + were, into phantastic shapes. I remember several places where a perfect + circle was formed by a sharp crestline that bounded an hemispherical, + crater-like hollow. When steam bubbles up through thick porridge, in its + leisurely and impeded way, and the bubble bursts with a clucking sound, + then for a moment a crater is formed just like these circular holes; only + here in the snow they were on a much larger scale, of course, some of them + six to ten feet in diameter. + </p> + <p> + And again the snow was thrown up into a bulwark, twenty and more feet + high, with that always repeating cliff face to the south, resembling a + miniature Gibraltar, with many smaller ones of most curiously similar form + on its back: bulwarks upon bulwarks, all lowering to the south. In these + the aggressive nature of storm-flung snow was most apparent. They were + formidable structures; formidable and intimidating, more through the + suggestiveness of their shape than through mere size. + </p> + <p> + I came to places where the wind had had its moments of frolicksome humour, + where it had made grim fun of its own massive and cumbersome and yet so + pliable and elastic majesty. It had turned around and around, running with + breathless speed, with its tongue lolling out, as it were, and probably + yapping and snapping in mocking mimicry of a pup trying to catch its tail; + and it had scooped out a spiral trough with overhanging rim. I felt sorry + that I had not been there to watch it, because after all, what I saw, was + only the dead record of something that had been very much alive and + vociferatingly noisy. And in another place it had reared and raised its + head like a boa constrictor, ready to strike at its prey; up to the + flashing, forked tongue it was there. But one spot I remember, where it + looked exactly as if quite consciously it had attempted the outright + ludicrous: it had thrown up the snow into the semblance of some formidable + animal—more like a gorilla than anything else it looked, a gorilla + that stands on its four hands and raises every hair on its back and snarls + in order to frighten that which it is afraid of itself—a leopard + maybe. + </p> + <p> + And then I reached the “White Range Line House.” Curiously enough, there + it stood, sheltered by its majestic bluff to the north, as peaceful + looking as if there were no such a thing as that record, which I had + crossed, of the uproar and fury of one of the forces of Nature engaged in + an orgy. And it looked so empty, too, and so deserted, with never a wisp + of smoke curling from its flue-pipe, that for a moment I was tempted to + turn in and see whether maybe the lonely dweller was ill. But then I felt + as if I could not be burdened with any stranger’s worries that day. + </p> + <p> + The effective shelter of the poplar forest along the creek made itself + felt. The last mile to the northeast was peaceful driving. I felt quite + cheered, though I walked the horses over the whole of the mile since both + began to show signs of wear. The last four miles had been a test to try + any living creature’s mettle. To me it had been one of the culminating + points in that glorious winter, but the horses had lacked the mental + stimulus, and even I felt rather exhausted. + </p> + <p> + On the bridge I stopped, threw the blankets over the horses, and fed. + Somehow this seemed to be the best place to do it. There was no snow to + speak of, and I did not know yet what might follow. The horses were + drooping, and I gave them an additional ten minutes’ rest. Then I slowly + made ready. I did not really expect any serious trouble. + </p> + <p> + We turned at a walk, and the chasm of the bush road opened up. Instantly I + pulled the horses in. What I saw, baffled me for a moment so completely + that I just sat there and gasped. There was no road. The trees to both + sides were not so overly high, but the snow had piled in level with their + tops; the drift looked like a gigantic barricade. It was that fleeting + sight of the telephone posts over again, though on a slightly smaller + scale; but this time it was in front. Slowly I started to whistle and then + looked around. I remembered now. There was a newly cut-out road running + north past the school which lay embedded in the bush. It had offered a + lane to the wind; and the wind, going there, in cramped space, at a doubly + furious stride, had picked up and carried along all the loose snow from + the grassy glades in its path. The road ended abruptly just north of the + drift, where the east-west grade sprang up. When the wind had reached this + end of the lane, where the bush ran at right angles to its direction, it + had found itself in something like a blind alley, and, sweeping upward, to + clear the obstacle, it had dropped every bit of its load into the shelter + of the brush, gradually, in the course of three long days, building up a + ridge that buried underbrush and trees. I might have known it, of course. + I knew enough about snow; all the conditions for an exceptionally large + drift were provided for here. But it had not occurred to me, especially + after I had found the northern fringe of the marsh so well sheltered. Here + I felt for a moment as if all the snow of the universe had piled in. As I + said, I was so completely baffled that I could have turned the horses then + and there. + </p> + <p> + But after a minute or two my eyes began to cast about. I turned to the + south, right into the dense underbrush and towards the creek which here + swept south in a long, flat curve. Peter was always intolerant of anything + that moved underfoot. He started to bolt when the dry and hard-frozen + stems snapped and broke with reports resembling pistol shots. But since + Dan kept quiet, I held Peter well in hand. I went along the drift for + maybe three to four hundred yards, reconnoitring. Then the trees began to + stand too dense for me to proceed without endangering my cutter. Just + beyond I saw the big trough of the creek bed, and though I could not make + out how conditions were at its bottom, the drift continued on its southern + bank, and in any case it was impossible to cross the hollow. So I turned; + I had made up my mind to try the drift. + </p> + <p> + About a hundred and fifty yards from the point where I had turned off the + road there was something like a fold in the flank of the drift. At its + foot I stopped. For a moment I tried to explain that fold to myself. This + is what I arrived at. North of the drift, just about where the new cut-out + joined the east-west grade, there was a small clearing caused by a bush + fire which a few years ago had penetrated thus far into this otherwise + virgin corner of the forest. Unfortunately it stood so full of charred + stumps that it was impossible to get through there. But the main currents + of the wind would have free play in this opening, and I knew that, when + the blizzard began, it had been blowing from a more northerly quarter than + later on, when it veered to the northwest. And though the snow came + careering along the lane of the cut-out, that is, from due north, its + “throw” and therefore, the direction of the drift would be determined by + the direction of the wind that took charge of it on this clearing. + Probably, then, a first, provisional drift whose long axis lay nearly in a + north-south line, had been piled up by the first, northerly gale. Later a + second, larger drift had been superimposed upon it at an angle, with its + main axis running from the northwest to the southeast. The fold marked the + point where the first, smaller drift still emerged from the second larger + one. This reasoning was confirmed by a study of the clearing itself which + I came to make two or three weeks after. + </p> + <p> + Before I called on the horses to give me their very last ounce of + strength, I got out of my cutter once more and made sure that my lines + were still sound. I trusted my ability to guide the horses even in this + crucial test, but I dreaded nothing so much as that the lines might break; + and I wanted to guard against any accident. I should mention that, of + course, the top of my cutter was down, that the traces of the harness were + new, and that the cutter itself during its previous trials had shown an + exceptional stability. Once more I thus rested my horses for five minutes; + and they seemed to realize what was coming. Their heads were up, their + ears were cocked. When I got back into my cutter, I carefully brushed the + snow from moccasins and trousers, laid the robe around my feet, adjusted + my knees against the dashboard, and tied two big loops into the lines to + hold them by. + </p> + <p> + Then I clicked my tongue. The horses bounded upward in unison. For a + moment it looked as if they intended to work through, instead of over, the + drift. A wild shower of angular snow-slabs swept in upon me. The cutter + reared up and plunged and reared again—and then the view cleared. + The snow proved harder than I had anticipated—which bespoke the fury + of the blow that had piled it. It did not carry the horses, but neither—once + we had reached a height of five or six feet—did they sink beyond + their bellies and out of sight. I had no eye for anything except them. + What lay to right or left, seemed not to concern me. I watched them work. + They went in bounds, working beautifully together. Rhythmically they + reared, and rhythmically they plunged. I had dropped back to the seat, + holding them with a firm hand, feet braced against the dashboard; and + whenever they got ready to rear, I called to them in a low and quiet + voice, “Peter—Dan—now!” And their muscles played with the + effort of desperation. It probably did not take more than five minutes, + maybe considerably less, before we had reached the top, but to me it + seemed like hours of nearly fruitless endeavour. I did not realize at + first that we were high. I shall never forget the weird kind of + astonishment when the fact came home to me that what snapped and crackled + in the snow under the horses’ hoofs, were the tops of trees. Nor shall the + feeling of estrangement, as it were—as if I were not myself, but + looking on from the outside at the adventure of somebody who yet was I—the + feeling of other-worldliness, if you will pardon the word, ever fade from + my memory—a feeling of having been carried beyond my depth where I + could not swim—which came over me when with two quick glances to + right and left I took in the fact that there were no longer any trees to + either side, that I was above that forest world which had so often + engulfed me. + </p> + <p> + Then I drew my lines in. The horses fought against it, did not want to + stand. But I had to find my way, and while they were going, I could not + take my eyes from them. It took a supreme effort on my part to make them + obey. At last they stood, but I had to hold them with all my strength, and + with not a second’s respite. Now that I was on top of the drift, the + problem of how to get down loomed larger than that of getting up had + seemed before. I knew I did not have half a minute in which to decide upon + my course; for it became increasingly difficult to hold the horses back, + and they were fast sinking away. + </p> + <p> + During this short breathing spell I took in the situation. We had come up + in a northeast direction, slanting along the slope. Once on top, I had + instinctively turned to the north. Here the drift was about twenty feet + wide, perfectly level and with an exfoliated surface layer. To the east + the drift fell steeply, with a clean, smooth cliff-line marking off the + beginning of the descent; this line seemed particularly disconcerting, for + it betrayed the concave curvature of the down-sweep. A few yards to the + north I saw below, at the foot of the cliff, the old logging-trail, and I + noticed that the snow on it lay as it had fallen, smooth and sheer, + without a ripple of a drift. It looked like mockery. And yet that was + where I had to get down. + </p> + <p> + The next few minutes are rather a maze in my memory. But two pictures were + photographed with great distinctness. The one is of the moment when we + went over the edge. For a second Peter reared up, pawing the air with his + forefeet; Dan tried to back away from the empty fall. I had at this + excruciating point no purchase whatever on the lines. Then apparently + Peter sat or fell down, I do not know which, on his haunches and began to + slide. The cutter lurched to the left as if it were going to spill all it + held. Dan was knocked off his hind feet by the drawbar—and we + plunged... We came to with a terrific jolt that sent me in a heap against + the dashboard. One jump, and I stood on the ground. The cutter—and + this is the second picture which is etched clearly on the plate of my + memory—stood on its pole, leaning at an angle of forty-five degrees + against the drift. The horses were as if stunned. “Dan, Peter!” I shouted, + and they struggled to their feet. They were badly winded, but otherwise + everything seemed all right. I looked wistfully back and up at the gully + which we had torn into the flank of the drift. + </p> + <p> + I should gladly have breathed the horses again, but they were hot, the air + was at zero or colder, the rays of the sun had begun to slant. I walked + for a while alongside the team. They were drooping sadly. Then I got in + again, driving them slowly till we came to the crossing of the ditch. I + had no eye for the grade ahead. On the bush road the going was good—now + and then a small drift, but nothing alarming anywhere. The anti-climax had + set in. Again the speckled trunks of the balm poplars struck my eye, now + interspersed with the scarlet stems of the red osier dogwood. But they + failed to cheer me—they were mere facts, unable to stir moods... + </p> + <p> + I began to think. A few weeks ago I had met that American settler with the + French sounding name who lived alongside the angling dam further north. We + had talked snow, and he had said, “Oh, up here it never is bad except + along this grade,”—we were stopping on the last east-west grade, the + one I was coming to—“there you cannot get through. You’d kill your + horses. Level with the tree-tops.” Well, I had had just that a little + while ago—I could not afford any more of it. So I made up my mind to + try a new trail, across a section which was fenced. It meant getting out + of my robes twice more, to open the gates, but I preferred that to another + tree-high drift. To spare my horses was now my only consideration. I + should not have liked to take the new trail by night, for fear of missing + the gates; but that objection did not hold just now. Horses and I were + pretty well spent. So, instead of forking off the main trail to the north + we went straight ahead. + </p> + <p> + In due time I came to the bridge which I had to cross in order to get up + on the dam. Here I saw—in an absent-minded, half unconscious, and + uninterested way—one more structure built by architect wind. The + deep master ditch from the north emptied here, to the left of the bridge, + into the grade ditch which ran east and west. And at the corner the snow + had very nearly bridged it—so nearly that you could easily have + stepped across the remaining gap. But below it was hollow—nothing + supported the bridge—it was a mere arch, with a vault underneath + that looked temptingly sheltered and cosy to wearied eyes. + </p> + <p> + The dam was bare, and I had to pull off to the east, on to the swampy + plain. I gave my horses the lines, and slowly, slowly they took me home! + Even had I not always lost interest here, to-day I should have leaned back + and rested. Although the horses had done all the actual work, the strain + of it had been largely on me. It was the after-effect that set in now. + </p> + <p> + I thought of my wife, and of how she would have felt had she been able to + follow the scenes in some magical mirror through every single vicissitude + of my drive. And once more I saw with the eye of recent memory the horses + in that long, endless plunge through the corner of the marsh. Once more I + felt my muscles a-quiver with the strain of that last wild struggle over + that last, inhuman drift. And slowly I made up my mind that the next time, + the very next day, on my return trip, I was going to add another eleven + miles to my already long drive and to take a different road. I knew the + trail over which I had been coming so far was closed for the rest of the + winter—there was no traffic there—no trail would be kept open. + That other road of which I was thinking and which lay further west was the + main cordwood trail to the towns in the south. It was out of my way, to be + sure, but I felt convinced that I could spare my horses and even save time + by making the detour. + </p> + <p> + Being on the east side of the dam, I could not see school or cottage till + I turned up on the correction line. But when at last I saw it, I felt + somewhat as I had felt coming home from my first big trip overseas. It + seemed a lifetime since I had started out. I seemed to be a different man. + </p> + <p> + Here, in the timber land, the snow had not drifted to any extent. There + were signs of the gale, but its record was written in fallen tree trunks, + broken branches, a litter of twigs—not in drifts of snow. My wife + would not surmise what I had gone through. + </p> + <p> + She came out with a smile on her face when I pulled in on the yard. It was + characteristic of her that she did not ask why I came so late; she + accepted the fact as something for which there were no doubt compelling + reasons. “I was giving our girl a bath,” she said; “she cannot come.” And + then she looked wistfully at my face and at the horses. Silently I slipped + the harness off their backs. I used to let them have their freedom for a + while on reaching home. And never yet but Peter at least had had a kick + and a caper and a roll before they sought their mangers. To-day they stood + for a moment knock-kneed, without moving, then shook themselves in a weak, + half-hearted way and went with drooping heads and weary limbs straight to + the stable. + </p> + <p> + “You had a hard trip?” asked my wife; and I replied with as much cheer as + I could muster, “I have seen sights to-day that I did not expect to see + before my dying day.” And taking her arm, I looked at the westering sun + and turned towards the house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FIVE. Wind and Waves + </h2> + <p> + When I awoke on the morning after the last described arrival at “home,” I + thought of the angry glow in the east at sunrise of the day before. It had + been cold again over night, so cold that in the small cottage, whatever + was capable of freezing, froze to its very core. The frost had even + penetrated the hole which in this “teacher’s residence” made shift for a + cellar, and, in spite of their being covered with layer upon layer of + empty bags, had sweetened the winter’s supply of potatoes. + </p> + <p> + But towards morning there had been a let-up, a sudden rise in temperature, + as we experience it so often, coincident with a change in the direction of + the wind, which now blew rather briskly from the south, foreboding a + storm. + </p> + <p> + I got the horses ready at an early hour, for I was going to try the + roundabout way at last, forty-five miles of it; and never before had I + gone over the whole of it in winter. Even in summer I had done so only + once, and that in a car, when I had accompanied the school-inspector on + one of his trips. I wanted to make sure that I should be ready in time to + start at ten o’clock in the morning. + </p> + <p> + This new road had chiefly two features which recommended it to me. + Firstly, about thirty-eight miles out of forty-five led through a fairly + well settled district where I could hope to find a chain of short-haul + trails. The widest gap in this series of settlements was one of two miles + where there was wild land. The remaining seven miles, it is true, led + across that wilderness on the east side of which lay Bell’s farm. This + piece, however, I knew so well that I felt sure of finding my way there by + night or day in any reasonable kind of weather. Nor did I expect to find + it badly drifted. And secondly, about twenty-nine miles from “home” I + should pass within one mile of a town which boasted of boarding house and + livery stable, offering thus, in case of an emergency, a convenient + stopping place. + </p> + <p> + I watched the sky rather anxiously, not so much on my own account as + because my wife, seeing me start, would worry a good deal should that + start be made in foul weather. At nine the sky began to get grey in spots. + Shortly after a big cloud came sailing up, and I went out to watch it. And + sure enough, it had that altogether loose appearance, with those + wind-torn, cottony appendages hanging down from its darker upper body + which are sure to bring snow. Lower away in the south—a rare thing + to come from the south in our climate—there lay a black squall-cloud + with a rounded outline, like a big windbag, resembling nothing so much as + a fat boy’s face with its cheeks blown out, when he tries to fill a + football with the pressure from his lungs. That was an infallible sign. + The first cloud, which was travelling fast, might blow over. The second, + larger one was sure to bring wind a-plenty. But still there was hope. So + long as it did not bring outright snow, my wife would not worry so much. + Here where she was, the snow would not drift—there was altogether + too much bush. She—not having been much of an observer of the skies + before—dreaded the snowstorm more than the blizzard. I knew the + latter was what portended danger. + </p> + <p> + When I turned back into the house, a new thought struck me. I spoke to my + wife, who was putting up a lunch for me, and proposed to take her and our + little girl over to a neighbour’s place a mile and a half west of the + school. Those people were among the very few who had been decent to her, + and the visit would beguile the weary Sunday afternoon. She agreed at + once. So we all got ready; I brought the horses out and hooked them up, + alone—no trouble from them this morning: they were quiet enough when + they drank deep at the well. + </p> + <p> + A few whirls of snow had come down meanwhile—not enough, however, as + yet to show as a new layer on the older snow. Again a cloud had torn loose + from that squall-bag on the horizon, and again it showed that cottony, + fringy, whitish under layer which meant snow. I raised the top of the + cutter and fastened the curtains. + </p> + <p> + By the time we three piled in, the thin flakes were dancing all around + again, dusting our furs with their thin, glittering crystals. I bandied + baby-talk with the little girl to make things look cheerful, but there was + anguish in the young woman’s look. I saw she would like to ask me to stay + over till Monday, but she knew that I considered it my duty to get back to + town by night. + </p> + <p> + The short drive to the neighbour’s place was pleasant enough. There was + plenty of snow on this part of the correction line, which farther east was + bare; and it was packed down by abundant traffic. Then came the parting. I + kissed wife and child; and slowly, accompanied by much waving of hands on + the part of the little girl and a rather depressed looking smile on that + of my wife, I turned on the yard and swung back to the road. The cliffs of + black poplar boles engulfed me at once: a sheltered grade. + </p> + <p> + But I had not yet gone very far—a mile perhaps, or a little over—when + the trees began to bend under the impact of that squall. Nearly at the + same moment the sun, which so far had been shining in an intermittent way, + was blotted from the sky, and it turned almost dusky. For a long while—for + more than an hour, indeed—it had seemed as if that black + squall-cloud were lying motionless at the horizon—an anchored ship, + bulging at its wharf. But then, as if its moorings had been cast off, or + its sails unfurled, it travelled up with amazing speed. The wind had an + easterly slant to it—a rare thing with us for a wind from that + quarter to bring a heavy storm. The gale had hardly been blowing for ten + or fifteen minutes, when the snow began to whirl down. It came in the + tiniest possible flakes, consisting this time of short needles that looked + like miniature spindles, strung with the smallest imaginable globules of + ice—no six-armed crystals that I could find so far. Many a snowstorm + begins that way with us. And there was even here, in the chasm of the + road, a swing and dance to the flakes that bespoke the force of the wind + above. + </p> + <p> + My total direction—after I should have turned off the correction + line—lay to the southeast; into the very teeth of the wind. I had to + make it by laps though, first south, then east, then south again, with the + exception of six or seven miles across the wild land west of Bell’s + corner; there, as nearly as I could hold the direction, I should have to + strike a true line southeast. + </p> + <p> + I timed my horses; I could not possibly urge them on to-day. They took + about nine minutes to the mile, and I knew I should have to give them many + a walk. That meant at best a drive of eight hours. It would be dark before + I reached town. I did not mind that, for I knew there would be many a + night drive ahead, and I felt sure that that half-mile on the southern + correction line, one mile from town, would have been gone over on Saturday + by quite a number of teams. The snow settles down considerably, too, in + thirty hours, especially under the pressure of wind. If a trail had been + made over the drift, I was confident my horses would find it without fail. + So I dismissed all anxiety on my own score. + </p> + <p> + But all the more did the thought of my wife worry me. If only I could have + made her see things with my own eyes—but I could not. She regarded + me as an invalid whose health was undermined by a wasting illness and who + needed nursing and coddling on the slightest provocation. Instead of + drawing Nature’s inference that, what cannot live, should die, she clung + to the slender thread of life that sometimes threatened to break—but + never on these drives. I often told her that, if I could make my living by + driving instead of teaching, I should feel the stronger, the healthier, + and the better for it—my main problem would have been solved. But + she, with a woman’s instinct for shelter and home, cowered down before + every one of Nature’s menaces. And yet she bore up with remarkable + courage. + </p> + <p> + A mile or so before I came to the turn in my road the forest withdrew on + both sides, yielding space to the fields and elbow-room for the wind to + unfold its wings. As soon as its full force struck the cutter, the + curtains began to emit that crackling sound which indicates to the sailor + that he has turned his craft as far into the wind as he can safely do + without losing speed. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. My right eye kept closing up, and I + had to wipe it ever so often to keep it open. The wind, too, for the first + and only time on my drives, somehow found an entrance into the lower part + of the cutter box, and though my feet were resting on the heater and my + legs were wrapped, first in woollen and then in leather leggings, besides + being covered with a good fur robe, my left side soon began to feel the + cold. It may be that this comparative discomfort, which I had to endure + for the better part of the day, somewhat coloured the kind of experience + this drive became. + </p> + <p> + As far as the road was concerned, I had as yet little to complain of. + About three miles from the turn there stood a Lutheran church frequented + by the Russian Germans that formed a settlement for miles around. They had + made the trail for me on these three miles, and even for a matter of four + or five miles south of the church, as I found out. It is that kind of a + road which you want for long drives: where others who have short drives + and, therefore, do not need to consider their horses break the crust of + the snow and pack it down. I hoped that a goodly part of my day’s trip + would be in the nature of a chain of shorter, much frequented stretches; + and on the whole I was not to be disappointed. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + You are closed in by it as by insecure and ever receding walls when you + drive in a snowstorm. If I had met a team, I could not have seen it, and + if my safety had depended on my discerning it in time to turn out of the + road, my safety would not have been very safe indeed. But I could rely on + my horses: they would hear the bells of any encountering conveyance long + enough ahead to betray it to me by their behaviour. And should I not even + notice that, they would turn out in time of their own accord: they had a + great deal of road sense. + </p> + <p> + Weariness overcame me. In the open the howling and whistling of the wind + always acts on me like a soporific. Inside of a house it is just the + reverse; I know nothing that will keep my nerves as much on edge and + prevent me as certainly from sleeping as the voices at night of a gale + around the buildings. I needed something more definite to look at than + that prospect ahead. The snow was by this time piling in on the seat at my + right and in the box, so as to exclude all drafts except from below I felt + that as a distinct advantage. + </p> + <p> + Without any conscious intention I began to peer out below the slanting + edge of the left side-curtain and to watch the sharp crest-wave of + snow-spray thrown by the curve of the runner where it cut into the freshly + accumulating mass. It looked like the wing-wave thrown to either side by + the bow of a power boat that cuts swiftly through quiet water. From it my + eye began to slip over to the snow expanse. The road was wide, lined with + brush along the fence to the left. The fields beyond had no very large + open areas—windbreaks had everywhere been spared out when the + primeval forest had first been broken into by the early settlers. So + whatever the force of the wind might be, no high drift layer could form. + But still the snow drifted. There was enough coming down from above to + supply material even on such a narrow strip as a road allowance. It was + the manner of this drifting that held my eye and my attention at last. + </p> + <p> + All this is, of course, utterly trivial. I had observed it myself a + hundred times before. I observe it again to-day at this very writing, in + the first blizzard of the season. It always has a strange fascination for + me; but maybe I need to apologize for setting it down in writing. + </p> + <p> + The wind would send the snowflakes at a sharp angle downward to the older + surface. There was no impact, as there is with rain. The flakes, of + course, did not rebound. But they did not come to rest either, not for the + most imperceptible fraction of time. As soon as they touched the white, + underlying surface, they would start to scud along horizontally at a most + amazing speed, forming with their previous path an obtuse angle. So long + as I watched the single flake—which is quite a task, especially + while driving—it seemed to be in a tremendous hurry. It rushed along + very nearly at the speed of the wind, and that was considerable, say + between thirty-five and forty miles an hour or even more. But then, when + it hit the trail, the crack made by horses and runners, strange to say, it + did not fall down perpendicularly, as it would have done had it acted + there under the influence of gravity alone; but it started on a curved + path towards the lower edge of the opposite wall of the crack and there, + without touching the wall, it started back, first downward, thus making + the turn, and then upward again, towards the upper edge of the east wall, + and not in a straight line either, but in a wavy curve, rising very nearly + but not quite to the edge; and only then would it settle down against the + eastern wall of the track, helping to fill it in. I watched this with all + the utmost effort of attention of which I was capable. I became intensely + interested in my observations. I even made sure—as sure as anybody + can be of anything—that the whole of this curious path lay in the + same perpendicular plane which ran from the southeast to the northwest, + that is to say in the direction of the main current of the wind. I have + since confirmed these observations many times. + </p> + <p> + I am aware of the fact that nobody—nobody whom I know, at least—takes + the slightest interest in such things. People watch birds because some + “Nature-Study-cranks” (I am one of them) urge it in the schools. Others + will make desultory observations on “Weeds” or “Native Trees.” Our school + work in this respect seems to me to be most ridiculously and palpably + superficial. Worst of all, most of it is dry as dust, and it leads + nowhere. I sometimes fear there is something wrong with my own mentality. + But to me it seems that the Kingdom of Heaven lies all around us, and that + most of us simply prefer the moving-picture-show. I have kept weather + records for whole seasons—brief notes on the everyday observations + of mere nothings. You, for whom above all I am setting these things down, + will find them among my papers one day. They would seem meaningless to + most of my fellow men, I believe; to me they are absorbingly interesting + reading when once in a great while I pick an older record up and glance it + over. But this is digressing. + </p> + <p> + Now slowly, slowly another fact came home to me. This unanimous, + synchronous march of all the flakes coming down over hundreds of square + miles—and I was watching it myself over miles upon miles of road—in + spite of the fact that every single flake seemed to be in the greatest + possible hurry—was, judged as a whole, nevertheless an exceedingly + leisurely process. In one respect it reminded me of bees swarming; watch + the single bee, and it seems to fly at its utmost speed; watch the swarm, + and it seems to be merely floating along. The reason, of course, is + entirely different. The bees wheel and circle around individually, the + whole swarm revolves—if I remember right, Burroughs has well + described it (as what has he not?). [Footnote: Yes; I looked it up. See + the “Pastoral Bees” in “Locusts and Wild Honey.”] But the snow will not + change its direction while drifting in a wind that blows straight ahead. + Its direction is from first to last the resultant of the direction of the + wind and that of the pull of gravity, into which there enters besides only + the ratio of the strengths of these two forces. The single snowflake is to + the indifferent eye something infinitesimal, too small to take individual + notice of, once it reaches the ground. For most of us it hardly has any + separate existence, however it may be to more astute observers. We see the + flakes in the mass, and we judge by results. Now firstly, to talk of + results, the filling up of a hollow, unless the drifting snow is simply + picked up from the ground where it lay ready from previous falls, proceeds + itself rather slowly and in quite a leisurely way. But secondly, and this + is the more important reason, the wind blows in waves of greater and + lesser density; these waves—and I do not know whether this + observation has ever been recorded though doubtless it has been made by + better observers than I am—these waves, I say, are propagated in a + direction opposite to that of the wind. They are like sound-waves sent + into the teeth of the wind, only they travel more slowly. Anybody who has + observed a really splashing rain on smooth ground—on a cement + sidewalk, for instance—must have observed that the rebounding drops, + like those that are falling, form streaks, because they, too, are arranged + in vertical layers—or sheets—of greater and lesser density—or + maybe the term “frequency” would be more appropriate; and these streaks + travel as compared with the wind, and, as compared with its direction, + they travel against it. It is this that causes the curious criss-cross + pattern of falling and rebounding rain-streaks in heavy showers. Quite + likely there are more competent observers who might analyze these + phenomena better than I can do it; but if nobody else does, maybe I shall + one day make public a little volume containing observations on our summer + rains. But again I am digressing. + </p> + <p> + The snow, then, hits the surface of the older layers in waves, no matter + whether the snow is freshly falling or merely drifting; and it is these + waves that you notice most distinctly. Although they travel with the wind + when you compare their position with points on the ground—yet, when + compared with the rushing air above, it becomes clear that they travel + against it. The waves, I say, not the flakes. The single flake never stops + in its career, except as it may be retarded by friction and other + resistances. But the aggregation of the multitudes of flakes, which varies + constantly in its substance, creates the impression as if the snow + travelled very much more slowly than in reality it does. In other words, + every single flake, carried on by inertia, constantly passes from one air + wave to the next one, but the waves themselves remain relatively + stationary. They swing along in undulating, comparatively slow-moving + sheets which may simply be retarded behind the speed of the wind, but more + probably form an actual reaction, set up by a positive force counteracting + the wind, whatever its origin may be. + </p> + <p> + When at last I had fully satisfied my mind as to the somewhat complicated + mechanics of this thing, I settled back in my seat—against a cushion + of snow that had meanwhile piled in behind my spine. If I remember right, + I had by this time well passed the church. But for a while longer I looked + out through the triangular opening between the door of the cutter and the + curtain. I did not watch snowflakes or waves any longer, but I matured an + impression. At last it ripened into words. + </p> + <p> + Yes, the snow, as figured in the waves, CRAWLED over the ground. There was + in the image that engraved itself on my memory something cruel—I + could not help thinking of the “cruel, crawling foam” and the ruminating + pedant Ruskin, and I laughed. “The cruel, crawling snow!” Yes, and in + spite of Ruskin and his “Pathetic Fallacy,” there it was! Of course, the + snow is not cruel. Of course, it merely is propelled by something which, + according to Karl Pearson, I do not even with a good scientific conscience + dare to call a “force” any longer. But nevertheless, it made the + impression of cruelty, and in that lay its fascination and beauty. It even + reminded me of a cat slowly reaching out with armed claw for the + “innocent” bird. But the cat is not cruel either—we merely call it + so! Oh, for the juggling of words!... + </p> + <p> + Suddenly my horses brought up on a farmyard. They had followed the last of + the church-goers’ trails, had not seen any other trail ahead and + faithfully done their horse-duty by staying on what they considered to be + the road. + </p> + <p> + I had reached the northern limit of that two-mile stretch of wild land. In + summer there is a distinct and good road here, but for the present the + snow had engulfed it. When I had turned back to the bend of the trail, I + was for the first time up against a small fraction of what was to come. No + trail, and no possibility of telling the direction in which I was going! + Fortunately I realized the difficulty right from the start. Before setting + out, I looked back to the farm and took my bearings from the fence of the + front yard which ran north-south. Then I tried to hold to the line thus + gained as best I could. It was by no means an easy matter, for I had to + wind my weary way around old and new drifts, brush and trees. The horses + were mostly up to their knees in snow, carefully lifting their hindlegs to + place them in the cavities which their forelegs made. Occasionally, much + as I tried to avoid it, I had to make a short dash through a snow dam + thrown up over brush that seemed to encircle me completely. The going, to + be sure, was not so heavy as it had been the day before on the corner of + the marsh, but on the other hand I could not see as far beyond the horses’ + heads. And had I been able to see, the less conspicuous landmarks would + not have helped me since I did not know them. It took us about an hour to + cross this untilled and unfenced strip. I came out on the next crossroad, + not more than two hundred yards east of where I should have come out. I + considered that excellent; but I soon was to understand that it was owing + only to the fact that so far I had had no flying drifts to go through. Up + to this point the snow was “crawling” only wherever the thicket opened up + a little. What blinded my vision had so far been only the new, falling + snow. + </p> + <p> + I am sure I looked like a snowman. Whenever I shook my big gauntlets bare, + a cloud of exceedingly fine and hard snow crystals would hit my face; and + seeing how much I still had ahead, I cannot say that I liked the + sensation. I was getting thoroughly chilled by this time. The mercury + probably stood at somewhere between minus ten and twenty. The very next + week I made one trip at forty below—a thermometer which I saw and + the accuracy of which I have reason to doubt showed minus forty-eight + degrees. Anyway, it was the coldest night of the winter, but I was not to + suffer then. I remember how about five in the morning, when I neared the + northern correction line, my lips began to stiffen; hard, frozen patches + formed on my cheeks, and I had to allow the horses to rub their noses on + fence posts or trees every now and then, to knock the big icicles off and + to prevent them from freezing up altogether—but. my feet and my + hands and my body kept warm, for there was no wind. On drives like these + your well-being depends largely on the state of your feet and hands. But + on this return trip I surely did suffer. Every now and then my fingers + would turn curd-white, and I had to remove my gauntlets and gloves, and to + thrust my hands under my wraps, next to my body. I also froze two toes + rather badly. And what I remember as particularly disagreeable, was that + somehow my scalp got chilled. Slowly, slowly the wind seemed to burrow its + way under my fur-cap and into my hair. After a while it became impossible + for me to move scalp or brows. One side of my face was now thickly caked + over with ice—which protected, but also on account of its stiffness + caused a minor discomfort. So far, however, I had managed to keep both my + eyes at work. And for a short while I needed them just now. + </p> + <p> + We were crossing a drift which had apparently not been broken into since + it had first been piled up the previous week. Such drifts are dangerous + because they will bear up for a while under the horses’ weight, and then + the hard pressed crust will break and reveal a softer core inside. Just + that happened here, and exactly at a moment, too, when the drifting snow + caught me with its full force and at its full height. It was a + quarter-minute of stumbling, jumping, pulling one against the other—and + then a rally, and we emerged in front of a farmyard from which a fairly + fresh trail led south. This trail was filled in, it is true, for the wind + here pitched the snow by the shovelful, but the difference in colour + between the pure white, new snow that filled it and the older surface to + both sides made it sufficiently distinct for the horses to guide them. + They plodded along. + </p> + <p> + Here miles upon miles of open fields lay to the southeast, and the snow + that fell over all these fields was at once picked up by the wind and + started its irresistible march to the northwest. And no longer did it + crawl. Since it was bound upon a long-distance trip, somewhere in its + career it would be caught in an upward sweep of the wind and thrown aloft, + and then it would hurtle along at the speed of the wind, blotting + everything from sight, hitting hard whatever it encountered, and piling in + wherever it found a sheltered space. The height of this drifting snow + layer varies, of course, directly and jointly (here the teacher makes fun + of his mathematics) as the amount of loose snow available and as the + carrying force of the wind. Many, many years ago I once saved the day by + climbing on to the seat of my cutter and looking around from this + vantage-point. I was lost and had no idea of where I was. There was no + snowstorm going on at the time, but a recent snowfall was being driven + along by a merciless northern gale. As soon as I stood erect on my seat, + my head reached into a less dense drift layer, and I could clearly discern + a farmhouse not more than a few hundred yards away. I had been on the + point of accepting it as a fact that I was lost. Those tactics would not + have done on this particular day, there being the snowstorm to reckon + with. For the moment, not being lost, I was in no need of them, anyway. + But even later the possible but doubtful advantage to be gained by them + seemed more than offset by the great and certain disadvantage of having to + get out of my robes and to expose myself to the chilling wind. + </p> + <p> + This north-south road was in the future invariably to seem endlessly long + to me. There were no very prominent landmarks—a school somewhere—and + there was hardly any change in the monotony of driving. As for landmarks, + I should mention that there was one more at least. About two miles from + the turn into that town which I have mentioned I crossed a bridge, and + beyond this bridge the trail sloped sharply up in an s-shaped curve to a + level about twenty or twenty-five feet higher than that of the road along + which I had been driving. The bridge had a rail on its west side; but the + other rail had been broken down in some accident and had never been + replaced. I mention this trifle because it became important in an incident + during the last drive which I am going to describe. + </p> + <p> + On we went. We passed the school of which I did not see much except the + flagpole. And then we came to the crossroads where the trail bent west + into the town. If I had known the road more thoroughly, I should have + turned there, too. It would have added another two miles to my already + overlong trip, but I invariably did it later on. Firstly, the horses will + rest up much more completely when put into a stable for feeding. And + secondly, there always radiate from a town fairly well beaten trails. It + is a mistake to cut across from one such trail to another. The straight + road, though much shorter, is apt to be entirely untravelled, and to break + trail after a heavy snowstorm is about as hard a task as any that you can + put your team up against. I had the road; there was no mistaking it; it + ran along between trees and fences which were plainly visible; but there + were ditches and brush buried under the snow which covered the grade to a + depth of maybe three feet, and every bit of these drifts was of that + treacherous character that I have described. + </p> + <p> + If you look at some small drift piled up, maybe, against the glass pane of + a storm window, you can plainly see how the snow, even in such a miniature + pile, preserves the stratified appearance which is the consequence of its + being laid down in layers of varying density. Now after it has been lying + for some time, it will form a crust on top which is sometimes the effect + of wind pressure and sometimes—under favourable conditions—of + superficial glaciation. A similar condensation takes place at the bottom + as the result of the work of gravity: a harder core will form. Between the + two there is layer upon layer of comparatively softer snow. In these + softer layers the differences which are due to the stratified + precipitation still remain. And frequently they will make the going + particularly uncertain; for a horse will break through in stages only. He + thinks that he has reached the carrying stratum, gets ready to take his + next step—thereby throwing his whole weight on two or at best three + feet—and just when he is off his balance, there is another caving + in. I believe it is this what makes horses so nervous when crossing + drifts. Later on in the winter there is, of course, the additional + complication of successive snowfalls. The layers from this cause are + usually clearly discernible by differences in colour. + </p> + <p> + I have never figured out just how far I went along this entirely unbroken + road, but I believe it must have been for two miles. I know that my horses + were pretty well spent by the time we hit upon another trail. It goes + without saying that this trail, too, though it came from town, had not + been gone over during the day and therefore consisted of nothing but a + pair of whiter ribbons on the drifts; but underneath these ribbons the + snow was packed. Hardly anybody cares to be out on a day like that, not + even for a short drive. And though in this respect I differ in my tastes + from other people, provided I can keep myself from actually getting + chilled, even I began to feel rather forlorn, and that is saying a good + deal. + </p> + <p> + A few hundred yards beyond the point where we had hit upon this new trail + which was only faintly visible, the horses turned eastward, on to a field. + Between two posts the wire of the fence had been taken down, and since I + could not see any trail leading along the road further south, I let my + horses have their will. I knew the farm on which we were. It was famous + all around for its splendid, pure-bred beef cattle herd. I had not counted + on crossing it, but I knew that after a mile of this field trail I should + emerge on the farmyard, and since I was particularly well acquainted with + the trail from there across the wild land to Bell’s corner, it suited me + to do as my horses suggested. As a matter of fact this trail became—with + the exception of one drive—my regular route for the rest of the + winter. Never again was I to meet with the slightest mishap on this + particular run. But to-day I was to come as near getting lost as I ever + came during the winter, on those drives to and from the north. + </p> + <p> + For the next ten minutes I watched the work of the wind on the open field. + As is always the case with me, I was not content with recording a mere + observation. I had watched the thing a hundred times before. “Observing” + means to me as much finding words to express what I see as it means the + seeing itself. Now, when a housewife takes a thin sheet that is lying on + the bed and shakes it up without changing its horizontal position, the + running waves of air caught under the cloth will throw it into a motion + very similar to that which the wind imparts to the snow-sheets, only that + the snow-sheets will run down instead of up. Under a good head of wind + there is a vehemence in this motion that suggests anger and a violent + disposition. The sheets of snow are “flapped” down. Then suddenly the + direction of the wind changes slightly, and the sheet is no longer flapped + down but blown up. At the line where the two motions join we have that + edge the appearance of which suggested to me the comparison with + “exfoliated” rock in a previous paper. It is for this particular stage in + the process of bringing about that appearance that I tentatively proposed + the term “adfoliation.” “Adfoliated” edges are always to be found on the + lee side of the sheet. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, however, the opposite process will bring about nearly the same + result. The snow-sheet has been spread, and a downward sweep of violent + wind will hit the surface, denting it, scraping away an edge of the top + layer, and usually gripping through into lower layers; then, rebounding, + it will lift the whole sheet up again, or any part of it; and, shattering + it into its component crystals, will throw these aloft and afar to be laid + down again further on. This is true “exfoliation.” Since it takes a more + violent burst of wind to effect this true exfoliation than it does to + bring about the adfoliation, and since, further, the snow once indented, + will yield to the depth of several layers, the true exfoliation edges are + usually thicker than the others: and, of course, they are always to be + found on the wind side. + </p> + <p> + Both kinds of lines are wavy lines because the sheets of wind are + undulating. In this connection I might repeat once more that the straight + line seems to be quite unknown in Nature, as also is uniformity of motion. + I once watched very carefully a ferry cable strung across the bottom of a + mighty river, and, failing to discover any theoretical reason for its + vibratory motion, I was thrown back upon proving to my own satisfaction + that the motion even of that flowing water in the river was the motion of + a pulse; and I still believe that my experiments were conclusive. + Everybody, of course, is familiar with the vibrations of telephone wires + in a breeze. That humming sound which they emit would indeed be hard to + explain without the assumption of a pulsating blow. Of course, it is easy + to prove this pulsation in air. From certain further observations, which I + do not care to speak about at present, I am inclined to assume a pulsating + arrangement, or an alternation of layers of greater and lesser density in + all organised—that is, crystalline—matter; for instance, in + even such an apparently uniform block as a lump of metallic gold or copper + or iron. This arrangement, of course, may be disturbed by artificial + means; but if it is, the matter seems to be in an unstable condition, as + is proved, for instance, by the sudden, unexpected breaking of apparently + perfectly sound steel rails. There seems to be a condition of matter which + so far we have largely failed to take into account or to utilise in human + affairs... + </p> + <p> + I reached the yard, crossed it, and swung out through the front gate. + Nowhere was anybody to be seen. The yard itself is sheltered by a curtain + of splendid wild trees to the north, the east, and the south. So I had a + breathing spell for a few minutes. I could also clearly see the gap in + this windbreak through which I must reach the open. I think I mentioned + that on the previous drive, going north, I had found the road four or five + miles east of here very good indeed. But the reason had been that just + this windbreak, which angles over to what I have been calling the + twelve-mile bridge, prevented all serious drifting while the wind came + from the north. To-day I was to find things different, for to the south + the land was altogether open. The force of the wind alone was sufficient + to pull the horses back to a walk, before we even had quite reached the + open plain. It was a little after four when I crossed the gap, and I knew + that I should have to make the greater part of what remained in darkness. + I was about twelve miles from town, I should judge. The horses had not + been fed. So, as soon as I saw how things were, I turned back into the + shelter of the bluff to feed. I might have gone to the farm, but I was + afraid it would cost too much time. After this I always went into town and + fed in the stable. While the horses were eating and resting, I cleaned the + cutter of snow looked after my footwarmer, and, by tramping about and + kicking against the tree trunks, tried to get my benumbed circulation + started again. My own lunch on examination proved to be frozen into one + hard, solid lump. So I decided to go without it and to save it for my + supper. + </p> + <p> + At half past four we crossed the gap in the bluffs for the second time. + </p> + <p> + Words fail me to describe or even to suggest the fury of the blast and of + the drift into which we emerged. For a moment I thought the top of the + cutter would be blown off. With the twilight that had set in the wind had + increased to a baffling degree. The horses came as near as they ever came, + in any weather, to turning on me and refusing to face the gale. And what + with my blurred vision, the twisting and dodging about of the horses, and + the gathering dusk, I soon did not know any longer where I was. There was + ample opportunity to go wrong. Copses, single trees, and burnt stumps + which dotted the wilderness had a knack of looming up with startling + suddenness in front or on the side, sometimes dangerously close to the + cutter. It was impossible to look straight ahead, because the ice crystals + which mimicked snow cut right into my eyes and made my lids smart with + soreness. Underfoot the rough ground seemed like a heaving sea. The horses + would stumble, and the cutter would pitch over from one side to the other + in the most alarming way. I saw no remedy. It was useless to try to avoid + the obstacles—only once did I do so, and that time I had to back + away from a high stump against which my drawbar had brought up. The + pitching and rolling of the cutter repeatedly shook me out of my robes, + and if, when starting up again from the bluff, I had felt a trifle more + comfortable, that increment of consolation was soon lost. + </p> + <p> + We wallowed about—there is only this word to suggest the motion. To + all intents and purposes I was lost. But still there was one thing, + provided it had not changed, to tell me the approximate direction—the + wind. It had been coming from the south-southeast. So, by driving along + very nearly into its teeth, I could, so I thought, not help emerging on + the road to town. + </p> + <p> + Repeatedly I wished I had taken the old trail. That fearful drift in the + bush beyond the creek, I thought, surely had settled down somewhat in + twenty-four hours. [Footnote: As a matter of fact I was to see it once + more before the winter was over, and I found it settled down to about one + third its original height. This was partly the result of superficial + thawing. But still even then, shortly before the final thaw-up, it looked + formidable enough.] I had had as much or more of unbroken trail to-day as + on the day before. On the whole, though, I still believed that the four + miles across the corner of the marsh south of the creek had been without a + parallel in their demands on the horses’ endurance. And gradually I came + to see that after all the horses probably would have given out before + this, under the cumulative effect of two days of it, had they not found + things somewhat more endurable to-day. + </p> + <p> + We wallowed along... And then we stopped. I shouted to the horses—nothing + but a shout could have the slightest effect against the wind. They started + to fidget and to dance and to turn this way and that, but they would not + go. I wasted three or four minutes before I shook free of my robes and + jumped out to investigate. Well, we were in the corner formed by two + fences—caught as in a trap. I was dumbfounded. I did not know of any + fence in these parts, of none where I thought I should be. And how had we + got into it? I had not passed through any gate. There was, of course, no + use in conjecturing. If the wind had not veered around completely, one of + the fences must run north-south, the other one east-west, and we were in + the southeast corner of some farm. Where there was a fence, I was likely + to find a farmyard. It could not be to the east, so there remained three + guesses. I turned back to the west. I skirted the fence closely, so + closely that even in the failing light and in spite of the drifting snow I + did not lose sight of it. Soon the going began to be less rough; the + choppy motion of the cutter seemed to indicate that we were on + fall-ploughed land; and not much later Peter gave a snort. We were + apparently nearing a group of buildings. I heard the heavy thump of + galloping horses, and a second later I saw a light which moved. + </p> + <p> + I hailed the man; and he came over and answered my questions. Yes, the + wind had turned somewhat; it came nearly from the east now (so that was + what had misled me); I was only half a mile west of my old trail, but + still, for all that, nearly twelve miles from town. In this there was good + news as well as bad. I remembered the place now; just south of the + twelve-mile bridge I had often caught sight of it to the west. Instead of + crossing the wild land along its diagonal, I had, deceived by the changed + direction of the wind, skirted its northern edge, holding close to the + line of poplars. I thought of the fence: yes, the man who answered my + questions was renting from the owner of that pure-bred Angus herd; he was + hauling wood for him and had taken the fence on the west side down. I had + passed between two posts without noticing them. He showed me the south + gate and gave me the general direction. He even offered my horses water, + which they drank eagerly enough. But he did not offer bed and stable-room + for the night; nor did he open the gate for me, as I had hoped he would. I + should have declined the night’s accommodation, but I should have been + grateful for a helping hand at the gate. I had to get out of my wraps to + open it. And meanwhile I had been getting out and in so often, that I did + no longer even care to clean my feet of snow; I simply pushed the heater + aside so as to prevent it from melting. + </p> + <p> + I “bundled in”—that word, borrowed from an angry lady, describes my + mood perhaps better than anything else I might say. And yet, though what + followed, was not exactly pleasure, my troubles were over for the day. The + horses, of course, still had a weary, weary time of it, but as soon as we + got back to our old trail—which we presently did—they knew the + road at least. I saw that the very moment we reached it by the way they + turned on to it and stepped out more briskly. + </p> + <p> + From this point on we had about eleven miles to make, and every step of it + was made at a walk. I cannot, of course say much about the road. There was + nothing for me to do except as best I could to fight the wind. I got my + tarpaulin out from under the seat and spread it over myself. I verily + believe I nodded repeatedly. It did not matter. I knew that the horses + would take me home, and since it was absolutely dark, I could not have + helped it had they lost their way. A few times, thinking that I noticed an + improvement in the road, I tried to speed the horses up; but when Dan at + last, in an attempt to respond, went down on his knees, I gave it up. + Sometimes we pitched and rolled again for a space, but mostly things went + quietly enough. The wind made a curious sound, something between an + infuriated whistle and the sibilant noise a man makes when he draws his + breath in sharply between his teeth. + </p> + <p> + I do not know how long we may have been going that way. But I remember how + at last suddenly and gradually I realized that there was a change in our + motion. Suddenly, I say—for the realization of the change came as a + surprise; probably I had been nodding, and I started up. Gradually—for + I believe it took me quite an appreciable time before I awoke to the fact + that the horses at last were trotting. It was a weary, slow, jogging trot—but + it electrified me, for I knew at once that we were on our very last mile. + I strained my eye-sight, but I could see no light ahead. In fact, we were + crossing the bridge before I saw the first light of the town. + </p> + <p> + The livery stable was deserted. I had to open the doors, to drive in, to + unhitch, to unharness, and to feed the horses myself. And then I went home + to my cold and lonesome house. + </p> + <p> + It was a cheerless night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SIX. A Call for Speed + </h2> + <p> + I held the horses in at the start. Somehow they realized that a new kind + of test was ahead. They caught the infection of speed from my voice, I + suppose, or from my impatience. They had not been harnessed by the hostler + either. When I came to the stable—it was in the forenoon, too, at an + hour when they had never been taken out before—the hostler had been + away hauling feed. The boys whom I had pressed into service had pulled the + cutter out into the street; it was there we hitched up. Everything, then, + had been different from the way they had been used to. So, when at last I + clicked my tongue, they bounded off as if they were out for a sprint of a + few miles only. + </p> + <p> + I held them in and pulled them down to a trot; for of all days to-day was + it of the utmost importance that neither one of them should play out. At + half past twelve a telephone message had reached me, after having passed + through three different channels, that my little girl was sick; and over + the wire it had a sinister, lugubrious, reticent sound, as if the worst + was held back. Details had not come through, so I was told. My wife was + sending a call for me to come home as quickly as I possibly could; nothing + else. It was Thursday. The Sunday before I had left wife and child in + perfect health. But scarlatina and diphtheria were stalking the plains. + The message had been such a shock to me that I had acted with automatic + precision. I had notified the school-board and asked the inspector to + substitute for me; and twenty minutes after word had reached me I crossed + the bridge on the road to the north. + </p> + <p> + The going was heavy but not too bad. Two nights ago there had been a + rather bad snowstorm and a blow, and during the last night an exceedingly + slight and quiet fall had followed it. Just now I had no eye for its + beauty, though. + </p> + <p> + I was bent on speed, and that meant watching the horses closely; they must + not be allowed to follow their own bent. There was no way of communicating + with my wife; so that, whatever I could do, was left entirely to my + divination. I had picked up a few things at the drug store—things + which had occurred to me on the spur of the moment as likely to be needed; + but now I started a process of analysis and elimination. Pneumonia, + diphtheria, scarlatina and measles—all these were among the more + obvious possibilities. I was enough of a doctor to trust my ability to + diagnose. I knew that my wife would in that respect rather rely on me than + on the average country-town practitioner. All the greater was my + responsibility. + </p> + <p> + Since the horses had not been fed for their midday-meal, I had in any case + to put in at the one-third-way town. It had a drug store; so there was my + last chance of getting what might possibly be needed. I made a list of + remedies and rehearsed it mentally till I felt sure I should not omit + anything of which I had thought. + </p> + <p> + Then I caught myself at driving the horses into a gallop. It was hard to + hold in. I must confess that I thought but little of the little girl’s + side of it; more of my wife’s; most of all of my own. That seems selfish. + But ever since the little girl was born, there had been only one desire + which filled my life. Where I had failed, she was to succeed. Where I had + squandered my energies and opportunities, she was to use them to some + purpose. What I might have done but had not done, she was to do. She was + to redeem me. I was her natural teacher. Teaching her became henceforth my + life-work. When I bought a book, I carefully considered whether it would + help her one day or not before I spent the money. Deprived of her, I + myself came to a definite and peremptory end. With her to continue my + life, there was still some purpose in things, some justification for + existence. + </p> + <p> + Most serious-minded men at my age, I believe, become profoundly impressed + with the futility of “it all.” Unless we throw ourselves into something + outside of our own personality, life is apt to impress us as a great + mockery. I am afraid that at the bottom of it there lies the recognition + of the fact that we ourselves were not worth while, that we did not amount + to what we had thought we should amount to; that we did not measure up to + the exigencies of eternities to come. Children are among the most + effective means devised by Nature to delude us into living on. Modern + civilization has, on the whole, deprived us of the ability for the + enjoyment of the moment. It raises our expectations too high—realization + is bound to fall short, no matter what we do. We live in an artificial + atmosphere. So we submerge ourselves in business, profession, or + superficial amusement. We live for something—do not merely live. The + wage-slave lives for the evening’s liberty, the business man for his + wealth, the preacher for his church. I used to live for my school. Then a + moment like the one I was living through arrives. Nature strips down our + pretences with a relentless finger, and we stand, bare of disguises, as + helpless failures. We have lost the childlike power of living without + conscious aims. Sometimes, when the aims have faded already in the + gathering dusk, we still go on by the momentum acquired. Inertia carries + us over the dead points—till a cog breaks somewhere, and our whole + machinery of life comes to with a jar. If no such awakening supervenes, + since we never live in the present, we are always looking forward to what + never comes; and so life slips by, unlived. + </p> + <p> + If my child was taken from me, it meant that my future was made + meaningless. I felt that I might just as well lie down and die. + </p> + <p> + There was injustice in this, I know I was reasoning, as it were, in a + phantom world. Actualities, outlooks, retrospections—my view of them + had been jarred and distorted by an unexpected, stunning blow. For that it + did not really matter how things actually were up north. I had never yet + faced such possibilities; they opened up like an abyss which I had skirted + in the dark, unknowingly. True, my wife was something like a child to me. + I was old enough to be her father, older even in mind than in actual + years. But she, too, by marrying an aging man, had limited her own + development, as it were, by mine. Nor was she I, after all. My child was. + The outlook without her was night. Such a life was not to be lived. + </p> + <p> + There was the lash of a scourge in these thoughts, so that I became + nervous, impatient, and unjust—even to the horses. Peter stumbled, + and I came near punishing him with my whip. But I caught myself just + before I yielded to the impulse. I was doing exactly what I should not do. + If Peter stumbled, it was more my own fault than his. I should have + watched the road more carefully instead of giving in to the trend of my + thoughts. A stumble every five minutes, and over a drive of forty-five + miles: that might mean a delay of half an hour—it might mean the + difference between “in time” and “too late.” I did not know what waited at + the other end of the road. It was my business to find out, not to indulge + in mere surmises and forebodings. + </p> + <p> + So, with an effort, I forced my attention to revert to the things around. + And Nature, with her utter lack of sentiment, is after all the only real + soother of anguished nerves. With my mind in the state it was in, the + drive would indeed have been nothing less than torture, had I not felt, + sometimes even against my will, mostly without at any rate consciously + yielding to it, the influence of that merriest of all winter sights which + surrounded me. + </p> + <p> + The fresh fall of snow, which had come over night, was exceedingly slight. + It had come down softly, floatingly, with all the winds of the prairies + hushed, every flake consisting of one or two large, flat crystals only, + which, on account of the nearly saturated air, had gone on growing by + condensation till they touched the ground. Such a condition of the + atmosphere never holds out in a prolonged snowfall, may it come down ever + so soft-footedly; the first half hour exhausts the moisture content of the + air. After that the crystals are the ordinary, small, six-armed “stars” + which bunch together into flakes. But if the snowfall is very slight, the + moisture content of the lower air sometimes is not exhausted before it + stops; those large crystals remain at the surface and are not buried out + of sight by the later fall. These large, coarse, slablike crystals reflect + as well as refract the light of the sun. There is not merely the sparkle + and glitter, but also the colour play. Facing north, you see only + glittering points of white light; but, facing the sun, you see every + colour of the rainbow, and you see it with that coquettish, sudden flash + which snow shares only with the most precious of stones. + </p> + <p> + Through such a landscape covered with the thinnest possible sheet of the + white glitter we sped. A few times, in heavier snow, the horses were + inclined to fall into a walk; but a touch of the whip sent them into line + again. I began to view the whole situation more quietly. Considering that + we had forty-five miles to go, we were doing very well indeed. We made + Bell’s corner in forty minutes, and still I was saving the horses’ + strength. + </p> + <p> + On to the wild land we turned, where the snow underfoot was soft and free + from those hard clods that cause the horses’ feet to stumble. I beguiled + the time by watching the distance through the surrounding brush. + Everybody, of course, has noticed how the open landscape seems to turn + when you speed along. The distance seems to stand still, while the + foreground rushes past you. The whole countryside seems to become a + revolving, horizontal wheel with its hub at the horizon. It is different + when you travel fast through half open bush, so that the eye on its way to + the edge of the visible world looks past trees and shrubs. In that case + there are two points which speed along: you yourself, and with you, + engaged, as it were, in a race with you, the distance. You can go many + miles before your horizon changes. But between it and yourself the + foreground is rushed back like a ribbon. There is no impression of + wheeling; there is no depth to that ribbon which moves backward and past. + You are also more distinctly aware that it is not the objects near you + which move, but you yourself. Only a short distance from you trees and + objects seem rather to move with you, though more slowly; and faster and + faster all things seem to be moving in the same direction with you, the + farther away they are, till at last the utmost distance rushes along at an + equal speed, behind all the stems of the shrubs and the trees, and keeps + up with you. + </p> + <p> + So is it truly in life. My childhood seems as near to me now as it was + when I was twenty—nearer, I sometimes think; but the years of my + early manhood have rushed by like that ribbon and are half swallowed by + oblivion. + </p> + <p> + This line of thought threw me back into heavier moods. And yet, since now + I banished the hardest of all thoughts hard to bear, I could not help + succumbing to the influence of Nature’s merry mood. I did so even more + than I liked. I remember that, while driving through the beautiful natural + park that masks the approach to the one-third-way town from the south, I + as much as reproached myself because I allowed Nature to interfere with my + grim purpose of speed. Half intentionally I conjured up the vision of an + infinitely lonesome old age for myself, and again the sudden palpitation + in my veins nearly prompted me to send my horses into a gallop. But + instantly I checked myself. Not yet, I thought. On that long stretch + north, beyond the bridge, there I was going to drive them at their utmost + speed. I was unstrung, I told myself; this was mere sentimentalism; no + emotional impulses were of any value; careful planning only counted. So I + even pulled the horses back to a walk. I wanted to feed them shortly after + reaching the stable. They must not be hot, or I should have trouble. + </p> + <p> + Then we turned into the main street of the town. In front of the stable I + deliberately assumed the air of a man of leisure. The hostler came out and + greeted me. I let him water the horses and waited, watch in hand. They got + some hay, and five minutes after I had stopped, I poured their oats into + the feeding boxes. + </p> + <p> + Then to the drug store—it was locked. I hunted the druggist all over + town for nearly twenty minutes. Everybody had seen him a short while ago; + everybody knew exactly where he had been a minute before; but nobody could + discover him just then. I worked myself into a veritable frenzy of hurry. + The moisture began to break out all over my body. I rushed back to the + livery stable to tell the hostler to hitch up again—and there stood + the druggist, looking my horses over! I shall not repeat what I said. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later I had what I wanted, and after a few minutes more I + walked my horses out of town. It had taken me an hour and fifty minutes to + make the town, and thirty-five minutes to leave it behind. + </p> + <p> + One piece of good news I received before leaving. While I was getting into + my robes and the hostler hooked up, he told me that no fewer than + twenty-two teams had that very morning come in with cordwood from the + northern correction line. They had made a farm halfways to town by + nightfall of the day before; the rest they had gone that very day. So + there would be an unmistakable trail all the way, and there was no need to + worry over the snow. + </p> + <p> + I walked the horses for a while; then, when we were swinging round the + turn to the north, on that long, twenty-mile grade, I speeded them up. The + trail was good: that just about summarizes what I remember of the road. + All details were submerged in one now, and that one was speed. The horses, + which were in prime condition, gave me their best. Sometimes we went over + long stretches that were sandy under that inch or so of new snow—with + sand blown over the older drifts from the fields—stretches where + under ordinary circumstances I should have walked my horses—at a + gallop. Once or twice we crossed bad drifts with deep holes in them, made + by horses that were being wintered outside and that had broken in before + the snow had hardened down sufficiently to carry them. There, of course, I + had to go slowly. But as soon as the trail was smooth again, the horses + would fall back into their stride without being urged. They had, as I + said, caught the infection. My yearning for speed was satisfied at last. + </p> + <p> + Four sights stand out. + </p> + <p> + The first is of just such bunches of horses that were being brought + through the winter with practically no yard feeding at all; and + consequently their healthy outdoor looks, and their velvety rumps were + very conspicuous as they scattered away from the trail on our approach. + Several times we dashed right in among them, and I had to shout in order + to clear the road. They did not like to leave the firm footing on the + trail, where they fed by pawing away the snow on both sides and baring the + weeds. Sometimes a whole bunch of them would thunder along in a stampede + ahead of us till they came to a cross-trail or to a farmyard; there we + left them behind. Sometimes only one of them would thus try to keep in + front, while the rest jumped off into the drifts; but, being separated + from his mates, he would stop at last and ponder how to get back to them + till we were right on him again. There was, then, no way to rejoin those + left behind except by doing what he hated to do, by getting off the trail + and jumping into the dreaded snow, thus giving us the right of way. And + when, at last, he did so, he felt sadly hampered and stopped close to the + trail, looking at us in a frightened and helpless sort of way while we + dashed by. + </p> + <p> + The next sight, too, impressed me with the degree to which snow handicaps + the animal life of our plains. Not more than ten feet from the heads of my + horses a rabbit started up. The horses were going at a gallop just then. + There it jumped up, unseen by myself until it moved, ears high, eyes + turned back, and giving a tremendous thump with its big hind feet before + setting out on its wild and desperate career. We were pretty close on its + heels and going fast. For maybe a quarter of a mile it stayed in one + track, running straight ahead and at the top of its speed so that it + pulled noticeably away. Every hundred yards or so, however, it would slow + down a little, and its jumps, as it glanced back without turning—by + merely taking a high, flying leap and throwing its head aloft—would + look strangely retarded, as if it were jumping from a sitting posture or + braking with its hind feet while bending its body backward. Then, seeing + us follow at undiminished speed, it would straighten out again and dart + away like an arrow. At the end of its first straight run it apparently + made up its mind that it was time to employ somewhat different tactics in + order to escape. So it jumped slantways across the soft, central cushion + of the trail into the other track. Again it ran straight ahead for a + matter of four or five hundred yards, slowing down three or four times to + reconnoitre in its rear. After that it ran in a zigzag line, taking four + or five jumps in one track, crossing over into the other with a gigantic + leap, at an angle of not more than thirty degrees to its former direction; + then, after another four or five bounds, crossing back again, and so on. + About every tenth jump was now a high leap for scouting purposes, I should + say. It looked breathless, frantic, and desperate. But it kept it up for + several miles. I am firmly convinced that rabbits distinguish between the + man with a gun and the one without it. This little animal probably knew + that I had no gun. But what was it to do? It was caught on the road with + us bearing down upon it. It knew that it did not stand a chance of getting + even beyond reach of a club if it ventured out into the deep, loose snow. + There might be dogs ahead, but it had to keep on and take that risk. I + pitied the poor thing, but I did not stop. I wished for a cross-trail to + appear, so it would be relieved of its panic; and at last there came one, + too, which it promptly took. + </p> + <p> + And as if to prove still more strikingly how helpless many of our wild + creatures are in deep snow, the third sight came. We started a prairie + chicken next. It had probably been resting in the snow to the right side + of the trail. It began to run when the horses came close. And in a sudden + panic as it was, it did the most foolish thing it possibly could do: it + struck a line parallel to the trail. Apparently the soft snow in which it + sank prevented it from taking to its wings. It had them lifted, but it did + not even use them in running as most of the members of its family will do; + it ran in little jumps or spurts, trying its level best to keep ahead. But + the horses were faster. They caught up with it, passed it. And slowly I + pulled abreast. Its efforts certainly were as frantic as those of the + rabbit had looked. I could have picked it up with my hands. Its beak was + open with the exertion—the way you see chickens walking about with + open beaks on a swooningly hot summer day I reached for the whip to lower + it in front of the bird and stop it from this unequal race. It cowered + down, and we left it behind... + </p> + <p> + We had by that time reached the narrow strip of wild land which separated + the English settlements to the south from those of the Russian Germans to + the north. We came to the church, and like everything else it rushed back + to the rear; the school on the correction line appeared. + </p> + <p> + Strangely, school was still on in that yellow building at the corner. I + noticed a cutter outside, with a man in it, who apparently was waiting for + his children. This is the fourth of the pictures that stand out in my + memory. The man looked so forlorn. His horse, a big, hulking farm beast, + wore a blanket under the harness. I looked at my watch. It was twenty-five + minutes past four. Here, in the bush country where the pioneers carve the + farms out of the wilderness, the time kept is often oddly at variance with + the time of the towns. I looked back several times, as long as I could see + the building, which was for at least another twenty minutes; but school + did not close. Still the man sat there, humped over, patiently waiting. It + is this circumstance, I believe, which fixed in my memory the exact hour + at which I reached the correction line. + </p> + <p> + Beyond, on the first mile of the last road east there was no possibility + of going fast. This piece was blown in badly. There was, however, always a + trail over this mile-long drift. The school, of course, had something to + do with that. But when you drive four feet above the ground, with nothing + but uncertain drifts on both sides of the trail, you want to be chary of + speeding your horses along. One wrong step, and a horse might wallow in + snow up to his belly, and you would lose more time than you could make up + for in an hour’s breathless career. A horse is afraid, too, of trotting + there, and it takes a great deal of urging to make him do it. + </p> + <p> + So we lost a little time here; but when a mile or so farther on we reached + the bush, we made up for it. This last run of five or six miles along the + correction line consisted of one single, soft, smooth bed of snow. The + trail was cut in sharply and never drifted. Every successive snowfall was + at once packed down by the tree-fellers, and whoever drove along, could + give his horses the lines. I did so, too, and the horses ran. + </p> + <p> + I relaxed. I had done what I could do. Anxiety there was hardly any now. A + drive over more than forty miles, made at the greatest obtainable speed, + blunts your emotional energies. I thought of home, to be sure, did so all + the time; but it was with expectation now, with nothing else. Within half + an hour I should know... + </p> + <p> + Then the bush opened up. The last mile led along between snow-buried + meadows, school and house in plain view ahead. There lay the cottage, as + peaceful in the evening sun as any house can look. Smoke curled up from + its chimney and rose in a nearly perpendicular column. I became aware of + the colder evening air, and with the chill that crept over me I was again + overwhelmed by the pitifully lonesome looks of the place. + </p> + <p> + Mostly I shouted when I drew near to tell of my coming. To-day I silently + swung up through the shrubby thicket in which the cottage and the stable + behind it lay embedded and turned in to the yard. As soon as the horses + stopped, I dropped the lines, jerked the door of the cutter back, and + jumped to the ground. + </p> + <p> + Then I stood transfixed. That very moment the door of the cottage opened. + There stood my wife, and between her knee and the door-post a curly head + pushed through, and a child’s voice shouted, “Daddy, come to the house! + Daddy, come to the house!” + </p> + <p> + A turn to the better had set in sometime during the morning. The fever had + dropped, and quickly, as children’s illness will come, it had gone. But + the message had sped on its way, irrevocable and, therefore, unrevoked. My + wife, when she told me the tale, thought, well had she reason to smile, + for had I not thus gained an additional holiday? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SEVEN. Skies and Scares + </h2> + <p> + We had a “soft spell” over a week end, and on Monday it had been followed + by a fearful storm—snowstorm and blizzard, both coming from the + southeast and lasting their traditional three days before they subsided. + On Thursday, a report came in that the trail across the wild land west of + Bell’s corner was closed completely—in fact, would be impassable for + the rest of the winter. This report came with the air of authority; the + man who brought it knew what he was talking about; of that I had no doubt. + For the time being, he said, no horses could possibly get through. + </p> + <p> + That very day I happened to meet another man who was habitually driving + back and forth between the two towns. “Why don’t you go west?” he said. + “You angle over anyway. Go west first and then straight north.” And he + described in detail the few difficulties of the road which he followed + himself. There was no doubt, he of all men should certainly know which was + the best road for the first seventeen miles. He had come in from that + one-third-way town that morning. I knew the trails which he described as + summer-roads, had gone over them a good many times, though never in + winter; so, the task of finding the trail should not offer any difficulty. + Well and good, then; I made up my mind to follow the advice. + </p> + <p> + On Friday afternoon everything was ready as usual. I rang off at four + o’clock and stepped into the hall. And right there the first thing went + wrong. + </p> + <p> + Never before had I been delayed in my start. But now there stood three men + in the hall, prominent citizens of the town. I had handed my resignation + to the school-board; these men came to ask me that I reconsider. The + board, so I had heard, was going to accept my decision and let it go at + that. According to this committee the board did not represent the majority + of the citizens in town. They argued for some time against my + stubbornness. At last, fretting under the delay, I put it bluntly. “I have + nothing to reconsider, gentlemen. The matter does no longer rest with me. + If, as I hear, the board is going to accept my resignation, that settles + the affair for me. It must of necessity suit me or I should not have + resigned. But you might see the board. Maybe they are making a mistake. In + fact, I think so. That is not my business, however.” And I went. + </p> + <p> + The time was short enough in any case; this cut it shorter. It was five + o’clock before I swung out on the western road. I counted on moonlight, + though, the fickle luminary being in its first quarter. But there were + clouds in the north and the weather was by no means settled. As for my + lights, they were useless for driving so long as the ground was completely + buried under its sheet of snow. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. That brought rebellion into Dan, for + now the neck yoke was cruelly twisting his head. I saw Dan’s feet emerging + out of the snow, pawing the air: he was on his back. Everything seemed + convulsed. Then Peter plunged and reared, pulling Dan half-ways up; that + motion of his released the neck yoke from the pole. The next moment both + horses were on their feet, head by head now, but facing each other, + apparently trying to pull apart; but the martingales held. Then both + jumped clear of the cutter and the pole; and they plunged out, to the + rear, past the cutter, to solid ground. + </p> + <p> + I do not remember how I got out; but after a minute or so I stood at their + heads, holding them by the bridles. The knees of both horses shook, their + nostrils trembled; Peter’s eye looked as if he were going to bolt. We were + only a hundred yards or so from a farm. A man and a boy came running with + lanterns. I snapped the halter ropes into the bit rings and handed the + horses over to the boy to be led to and fro at a walk so as to prevent a + chill; and I went with the man to inspect the cutter. Apparently no damage + was done beyond the snapping of the lines. The man, who knew me, offered + to lend me another pair, which I promptly accepted. We pulled the cutter + out backwards, straightened the harness, and hitched the horses up again. + It was clear that, though they did not seem to be injured, their nerves + were on edge. + </p> + <p> + The farmer meanwhile enlightened me. I mentioned the name of the man who + had recommended the road. Yes, the road was good enough from town to town. + This was the only bad drift. Yes, my adviser had passed here the day + before; but he had turned off the road, going down to the river below, + which was full of holes, it is true, made by the ice-harvesters, but + otherwise safe enough. The boy would go along with his lantern to guide me + to the other side of the drift. I am afraid I thought some rather + uncharitable things about my adviser for having omitted to caution me + against this drift. What I minded most, was, of course, the delay. + </p> + <p> + The drift was partly hollow, it appeared; the crust had thawed and frozen + again; the huge mass of snow underneath had settled down. The crust had + formed a vault, amply strong enough to carry a man, but not to carry horse + and cutter. + </p> + <p> + When in the dying light and by the gleam of the lantern we went through + the dense brush, down the steep bank, and on to the river, the horses were + every second ready to bolt. Peter snorted and danced, Dan laid his ears + back on his head. But the boy gave warning at every open hole, and we made + it safely. At last we got back to the road, I kept talking and purring to + the horses for a while, and it seemed they were quieting down. + </p> + <p> + It was not an auspicious beginning for a long night-drive. And though for + a while all things seemed to be going about as well as I could wish, there + remained a nervousness which, slight though it seemed while unprovoked, + yet tinged every motion of the horses and even my own state of mind. + Still, while we were going west, and later, north into the one-third-way + town, the drive was one of the most marvellously beautiful ones that I had + had during that winter of marvellous sights. + </p> + <p> + As I have mentioned, the moon was in its first quarter and, therefore, + during the early part of the night high in the sky. It was not very cold; + the lower air was quiet, of that strange, hushed stillness which in + southern countries is the stillness of the noon hour in midsummer—when + Pan is frightened into a panic by the very quiet. It was not so, however, + in the upper reaches of the atmosphere. It was a night of skies, of + shifting, ever changing skies. Not for five minutes did an aspect last. + When I looked up, after maybe having devoted my attention for a while to a + turn in the road or to a drift, there was no trace left of the picture + which I had seen last. And you could not help it, the sky would draw your + eye. There was commotion up there—operations were proceeding on a + very vast scale, but so silently, with not a whisper of wind, that I felt + hushed myself. + </p> + <p> + A few of the aspects have persisted in my memory, but it seems an + impossible task to sketch them. + </p> + <p> + I was driving along through open fields. The trail led dimly ahead. Huge + masses of snow with sharp, immovable shadows flanked it. The horses were + very wide awake. They cocked their ears at every one of the mounds; and + sometimes they pressed rump against rump, as if to reassure each other by + their mutual touch. + </p> + <p> + About halfway up from the northern horizon there lay a belt of faintest + luminosity in the atmosphere—no play of northern lights—just + an impalpable paling of the dark blue sky. There were stars, too, but they + were not very brilliant. Way down in the north, at the edge of the world, + there lay a long, low-flung line of cloud, black, scarcely discernible in + the light of the moon. And from its centre, true north, there grew out a + monstrous human arm, reaching higher and higher, up to the zenith, + blotting the stars behind it. It looked at first—in texture and + rigid outline—as the stream of straw looks that flows from the + blower of a threshing machine when you stand straight in its line and + behind it. But, of course, it did not curve down. It seemed to stretch and + to rise, growing more and more like an arm with a clumsy fist at its end, + held unconceivably straight and unbending. This cloud, I have no doubt, + was forming right then by condensation. And it stretched and lengthened + till it obscured the moon. + </p> + <p> + Just then I reached the end of my run to the west. I was nearing a block + of dense poplar bush in which somewhere two farmsteads lay embedded. The + road turned to the north. I was now exactly south of and in line with that + long, twenty-mile trail where I had startled horses, rabbit, and partridge + on the last described drive. I believe I was just twenty-five miles from + the northern correction line. At this corner where I turned I had to + devote all my attention to the negotiating of a few bad drifts. + </p> + <p> + When I looked up again, I was driving along the bottom of a wide road gap + formed by tall and stately poplars on both sides—trees which stood + uncannily still. The light of the moon became less dim, and I raised my + eyes. That band of cloud—for it had turned into a band now, thus + losing its threatening aspect—had widened out and loosened up. It + was a strip of flocculent, sheepy-looking, little cloudlets that suggested + curliness and innocence. And the moon stood in between like a goodnatured + shepherd in the stories of old. + </p> + <p> + For a while I kept my eyes on the sky. The going was good indeed on this + closed-in road. And so I watched that insensible, silent, and yet swift + shifting of things in the heavens that seemed so orderly, pre-ordained, + and as if regulated by silent signals. The clouds lost their sheeplike + look again; they became more massive; they took on more substance and + spine, more manliness, as it were; and they arranged themselves in + distinct lines. Soldiers suggested themselves, not soldiers engaged in + war, but soldiers drilling in times of peace, to be reviewed, maybe, by + some great general. That central point from which the arm had sprung and + which had been due north had sidled over to the northwest; the low-flung + line along the horizon had taken on the shape of a long wedge pointing + east; farther west it, too, looked more massive now—more like a + rather solid wall. And all those soldier-clouds fell into a fan-shaped + formation—into lines radiating from that common central point in the + northwest. This arrangement I have for many years been calling “the tree.” + It is quite common, of course, and I read it with great confidence as + meaning “no amount of rain or snow worth mentioning.” “The tree” covered + half the heavens or more, and nowhere did I see any large reaches of clear + sky. Here and there a star would peep through, and the moon seemed to be + quickly and quietly moving through the lines. Apparently he was the + general who reviewed the army. + </p> + <p> + Again there came a shifting in the scenes. It looked as if some unseen + hands were spreading a sheet above these flocculent clouds—a thin + and vapoury sheet that came from the north and gradually covered the whole + roof of the sky. Stars and moon disappeared; but not, so far, the light of + the moon; it merely became diffused—the way the light from an + electric bulb becomes diffused when you enclose it in a frosted globe. And + then, as the sheet of vapour above began to thicken, the light on the snow + became dim and dimmer, till the whole of the landscape lay in gloom. The + sheet still seemed to be coming, coming from the north. But no longer did + it travel away to the south. It was as if it had brought up against an + obstacle there, as if it were being held in place. And since there was + more and more of it pressing up—it seemed rather to be pushed now—it + telescoped together and threw itself into folds, till at last the whole + sky looked like an enormous system of parallel clothes-lines over all of + which one great, soft, and loose cloth were flung, so that fold after fold + would hang down between all the neighbouring pairs of lines; and between + two folds there would be a sharply converging, upward crease. It being + night, this arrangement, common in grey daylight, would not have shown at + all, had it not been for the moon above. As it was, every one of the + infolds showed an increasingly lighter grey the higher it folded up, and + like huge, black udders the outfolds were hanging down. This sky, when it + persists, I have often found to be followed within a few days by heavy + storms. To-night, however, it did not last. Shifting skies are never + certain signs, though they normally indicate an unsettled condition of the + atmosphere. I have observed them after a blizzard, too. + </p> + <p> + I looked back over my shoulder, just when I emerged from the bush into the + open fields. And there I became aware of a new element again. A quiet and + yet very distinct commotion arose from the south. These cloth-clouds + lifted, and a nearly impalpable change crept over the whole of the sky. A + few minutes later it crystallised into a distinct impression. A dark grey, + faintly luminous, inverted bowl stood overhead. Not a star was to be seen + above, nor yet the moon. But all around the horizon there was a nearly + clear ring, suffused with the light of the moon. There, where the sky is + most apt to be dark and hazy, stars peeped out—singly and dimly only—I + did not recognize any constellation. + </p> + <p> + And then the grey bowl seemed to contract into patches. Again the change + seemed to proceed from the south. The clouds seemed to lift still higher, + and to shrink into small, light, feathery cirrus clouds, silvery on the + dark blue sky—resembling white pencil shadings. The light of the + moon asserted itself anew. And this metamorphosis also spread upward, till + the moon herself looked out again, and it went on spreading northward till + it covered the whole of the sky. + </p> + <p> + This last change came just before I had to turn west again for a mile or + so in order to hit a trail into town. I did not mean to go on straight + ahead and to cut across those radiating road lines of which I have spoken + in a former paper. I knew that my wife would be sitting up and waiting + till midnight or two o’clock, and I wanted to make it. So I avoided all + risks and gave my attention to the road for a while. I had to drive + through a ditch and through a fence beyond, and to cross a field in order + to strike that road which led from the south through the park into town. A + certain farmstead was my landmark. Beyond it I had to watch out sharply if + I wanted to find the exact spot where according to my informant the wire + of the fence had been taken down. I found it. + </p> + <p> + To cross the field proved to be the hardest task the horses had had so far + during the night. The trail had been cut in deep through knee-high drifts, + and it was filled with firmly packed, freshly blown-in snow. That makes a + particularly bad road for fast driving. I simply had to take my time and + to give all my attention to the guiding of the horses. And here I was also + to become aware once more of the fact that my horses had not yet forgotten + their panic in that river drift of two hours ago. There was a strawstack + in the centre of the field; at least the shape of the big, white mound + suggested a strawstack; and the trail led closely by it. Sharp shadows + showed, and the horses, pricking their ears, began to dance and to sidle + away from it as we passed along its southern edge. + </p> + <p> + But we made it. By the time we reached the park that forms the approach to + the town from the south, the skies had changed completely. There was now, + as far as my eye would reach, just one vast, dark-blue, star-spangled + expanse. And the skies twinkled and blazed down upon the earth with a + veritable fervour. There was not one of the more familiar stars that did + not stand out brightly, even the minor ones which you do not ordinarily + see oftener than, maybe, once or twice a year—as, for instance, + Vega’s smaller companions in the constellation of the Lyre, or the minor + points in the cluster of the Pleiades. + </p> + <p> + I sometimes think that the mere fact of your being on a narrow bush-road, + with the trees looming darkly to both sides, makes the stars seem brighter + than they appear from the open fields. I have heard that you can see a + star even in daytime from the bottom of a deep mine-pit if it happens to + pass overhead. That would seem to make my impression less improbable, + perhaps. I know that not often have the stars seemed so much alive to me + as they did that night in the park. + </p> + <p> + And then I came into the town. I stayed about forty-five minutes, fed the + horses, had supper myself, and hitched up again. + </p> + <p> + On leaving town I went for another mile east in the shelter of a fringe of + bush; and this bush kept rustling as if a breeze had sprung up. But it was + not till I turned north again, on the twenty-mile stretch, that I became + conscious of a great change in the atmosphere. There was indeed a slight + breeze, coming from the north, and it felt very moist. Somehow it felt + homely and human, this breeze. There was a promise in it, as of a time, + not too far distant, when the sap would rise again in the trees and when + tender leaflets would begin to stir in delicate buds. So far, however, its + more immediate promise probably was snow. + </p> + <p> + But it did not last, either. A colder breeze sprang up. Between the two + there was a distinct lull. And again there arose in the north, far away, + at the very end of my seemingly endless road, a cloud-bank. The colder + wind that sprang up was gusty; it came in fits and starts, with short + lulls in between; it still had that water-laden feeling, but it was now + what you would call “damp” rather than “moist”—the way you often + feel winter-winds along the shores of great lakes or along sea-coasts. + There was a cutting edge to it—it was “raw” And it had not been + blowing very long before low-hanging, dark, and formless cloud-masses + began to scud up from the north to the zenith. The northern lights, too, + made their appearance again about that time. They formed an arc very far + to the south, vaulting up behind my back, beyond the zenith. No streamers + in them, no filtered rays and streaks—nothing but a blurred + luminosity high above the clouds and—so it seemed—above the + atmosphere. The northern lights have moods, like the clouds—moods as + varied as theirs—though they do not display them so often nor quite + so ostentatiously. + </p> + <p> + We were nearing the bridge across the infant river. The road from the + south slopes down to this bridge in a rather sudden, s-shaped curve, as + perhaps the reader remembers. I still had the moonlight from time to time, + and whenever one of the clouds floated in front of the crescent, I drove + more slowly and more carefully. Now there is a peculiar thing about + moonlight on snow. With a fairly well-marked trail on bare ground, in + summertime, a very little of it will suffice to indicate the road, for + there are enough rough spots on the best of trails to cast little shadows, + and grass and weeds on both sides usually mark the beaten track off still + more clearly, even though the road lead north. But the snow forms such an + even expanse, and the trail on it is so featureless that these signs are + no longer available. The light itself also is too characterless and too + white and too nearly of the same quality as the light reflected by the + snow to allow of judging distances delicately and accurately. You seem to + see nothing but one vast whiteness all around. When you drive east or + west, the smooth edges of the tracks will cast sharply defined shadows to + the north, but when you drive north or south, even these shadows are + absent, and so you must entirely rely on your horses to stay on the trail. + I have often observed how easily my own judgment was deluded. + </p> + <p> + But still I felt so absolutely sure that I should know when I approached + the bridge that, perhaps through overconfidence, I was caught napping. + There was another fact which I did not take sufficiently into account at + the time. I have mentioned that we had had a “soft spell.” In fact, it had + been so warm for a day or two that the older snow had completely iced + over. Now, much as I thought I was watching out, we were suddenly and + quite unexpectedly right on the downward slope before I even realized that + we were near it. + </p> + <p> + As I said, on this slope the trail described a double curve, and it hit + the bridge at an angle from the west. The first turn and the behaviour of + the horses were what convinced me that I had inadvertently gone too far. + If I had stopped the horses at the point where the slope began and then + started them downward at a slow walk, we should still have reached the + bridge at too great a speed; for the slope had offered the last big wind + from the north a sheer brow, and it was swept clean of new snow, thus + exposing the smooth ice underneath; the snow that had drifted from the + south, on the other hand, had been thrown beyond the river, on to the + lower northern bank; the horses skidded, and the weight of the cutter + would have pushed them forward. As it was, they realized the danger + themselves; for when we turned the second curve, both of them stiffened + their legs and spread their feet in order to break the momentum of the + cutter; but in spite of the heavy calks under their shoes they slipped on + all fours, hardly able to make the bend on to the bridge. + </p> + <p> + They had to turn nearly at right angles to their last direction, and the + bridge seemed to be one smooth sheet of ice. The moon shone brightly just + then; so I saw exactly what happened. As soon as the runners hit the + iced-over planks, the cutter swung out sideways; the horses, however, + slipping and recovering, managed to make the turn. It was a worth-while + sight to see them strike their calks into the ice and brace themselves + against the shock which they clearly expected when the cutter started to + skid. The latter swung clear of the bridge—you will remember that + the railing on the east-side was broken away—out into space, and + came down with a fearful crash, but right side up, on the steep north bank + of the river—just at the very moment when the horses reached the + deep, loose snow beyond which at least gave them a secure footing. They + had gone along the diagonal of the bridge, from the southwest corner, + barely clearing the rail, to the northwest corner where the snow had piled + in to a depth of from two to five feet on the sloping bank. If the ground + where I hit the bank had been bare, the cutter would have splintered to + pieces; as it was, the shock of it seemed to jar every bone in my body. + </p> + <p> + It seemed rather a piece of good luck that the horses bolted; the lines + held; they pulled me free of the drift on the bank and plunged out on the + road. For a mile or two we had a pretty wild run; and this time there was + no doubt about it, either, the horses were thoroughly frightened. They ran + till they were exhausted, and there was no holding them; but since I was + on a clear road, I did not worry very much. Nevertheless, I was rather + badly shaken up myself; and if I had followed the good advice that + suggested itself, I should have put in for some time at the very next farm + which I passed. The way I see things now, it was anything rather than safe + to go on. With horses in the nervous condition in which mine were I could + not hope any longer to keep them under control should a further accident + happen. But I had never yet given in when I had made up my mind to make + the trip, and it was hard to do so for the first time. + </p> + <p> + As soon as I had the horses sufficiently in hand again, I lighted my + lantern, got out on the road, and carefully looked my cutter over. I found + that the hardwood lining of both runners was broken at the curve, but the + steel shoes were, though slightly bent, still sound. Fortunately the top + had been down, otherwise further damage would have been sure to result. I + saw no reason to discontinue the drive. + </p> + <p> + Now after a while—when the nervousness incident upon the shock which + I had received subsided—my interest in the shifting skies revived + once more, and again I began to watch the clouds. The wind was squally, + and the low, black vapour-masses overhead had coalesced into a vast array + of very similar but yet distinct groups. There was still a certain amount + of light from the moon, but only just enough to show the texture and the + grouping of the clouds. Hardly ever had I seen, or at least consciously + taken note of a sky that with its blackness and its massed multitudes of + clouds looked so threatening, so sinister, so much like a battle-array. + But way up in the northeast there were two large areas quite suffused with + light from the north. They must have been thin cloud-layers in whose upper + reaches the northern lights were playing. And these patches of light were + like a promise, like a word of peace arresting the battle. Had it not been + for these islands of light, I should have felt depressed when I looked + back to the road. + </p> + <p> + We were swinging along as before. I had rested the horses by a walk, and + to a casual observer they would have seemed to be none the worse for their + fling at running away. But on closer scrutiny they would again have + revealed the unmistakable signs of nervous tension. Their ears moved + jerkily on the slightest provocation. Still, the road was good and clear, + and I had no apprehensions. + </p> + <p> + Then came the sudden end of the trail. It was right in front of a farm + yard. Clearly, the farmer had broken the last part of the road over which + I had come. The trail widened out to a large, circus-shaped flat in the + drifts. The snow had the ruffled appearance of being thoroughly tramped + down by a herd of cattle. On both sides there were trees—wild trees—a-plenty. + Brush lined the narrow road gap ahead; but the snow had piled in level + with its tops. This had always been rather a bad spot, though the last + time I had seen it the snow had settled down to about half the height of + the shrubs. I stopped and hesitated for a moment. I knew just where the + trail had been. It was about twenty-five feet from the fence of the field + to the east. It was now covered under three to four feet of freshly + drifted-in snow. The drift seemed to be higher towards the west, where the + brush stood higher, too. So I decided to stay as nearly as I could above + the old trail. There, even though we might break through the new snow the + older drifts underneath were likely to be firm enough. + </p> + <p> + We went ahead. The drift held, and slowly we climbed to its summit. It is + a strange coincidence that just then I should have glanced up at the sky. + I saw a huge, black cloud-mass elbowing its way, as it were, in front of + those islands of light, the promise of peace. And so much was I by this + time imbued with the moods of the skies that the disappearance of this + mild glimmer sent a regret through my very body. And simultaneously with + this thrill of regret there came—I remember this as distinctly as if + it had been an hour ago—the certainty of impending disaster. The + very next moment chaos reigned. The horses broke in, not badly at all; but + as a consequence of their nervous condition they flew into a panic. I held + them tight as they started to plunge. But there was no guiding them; they + were bound to have things their own way altogether. It seemed as if they + had lost their road-sense, too, for instead of plunging at least straight + ahead, out on the level trail, they made, with irresistible bounds and + without paying the slightest attention to the pull of the lines, towards + the east. There the drift, not being packed by any previous traffic, went + entirely to pieces under their feet. I had meanwhile thrown off my robes, + determined at all costs to bring them to a stop, for I knew, if I allowed + them to get away with me this time, they would be spoiled for any further + drives of mine. + </p> + <p> + Now just the very fraction of a second when I got my feet up against the + dashboard so as to throw my whole weight into my pull, they reared up as + if for one tremendous and supreme bound, and simultaneously I saw a fence + post straight under the cutter pole. Before I quite realized it, the + horses had already cleared the fence. I expected the collision, the + breaking of the drawbar and the bolting of the horses; but just then my + desperate effort in holding them told, and dancing and fretting they + stood. Then, in a flash, I mentally saw and understood the whole + situation. The runners of the cutter, still held up by the snow of the + drift which sloped down into the field and which the horses had churned + into slabs and clods, had struck the fence wire and, lifting the whole of + the conveyance, had placed me; cutter and all, balanced for a moment to a + nicety, on top of the post. But already we began to settle back. + </p> + <p> + I felt that I could not delay, for a moment later the runners would slip + off the wire and the cutter fall backward; that was the certain signal for + the horses to bolt. The very paradoxicality of the situation seemed to + give me a clue. I clicked my tongue and, holding the horses back with my + last ounce of strength, made them slowly dance forward and pull me over + the fence. In a moment I realized that I had made a mistake. A quick pull + would have jerked me clear of the post. As it was, it slowly grated along + the bottom of the box; then the cutter tilted forward, and when the + runners slipped off the wire, the cutter with myself pitched back with a + frightful knock against the post. The back panel of the box still shows + the splintered tear that fence post made. The shock of it threw me + forward, for a second I lost all purchase on the lines, and again the + horses went off in a panic. It was quite dark now, for the clouds were + thickening in the sky. While I attended to the horses, I reflected that + probably something had broken back there in the cutter, but worst of all, + I realized that this incident, for the time being at least, had completely + broken my nerve. As soon as I had brought the horses to a stop, I turned + in the knee-deep snow of the field and made for the fence. + </p> + <p> + Half a mile ahead there gleamed a light. I had, of course, to stay on the + field, and I drove along, slowly and carefully, skirting the fence and + watching it as closely as what light there was permitted. + </p> + <p> + I do not know why this incident affected me the way it did; but I presume + that the cumulative effect of three mishaps, one following the other, had + something to do with it; the same as it affected the horses. But more than + that, I believe, it was the effect of the skies. I am rather subject to + the influence of atmospheric conditions. There are not many things that I + would rather watch. No matter what the aspect of the skies may be, they + fascinate me. I have heard people say, “What a dull day!”—or, “What + a sleepy day!”—and that when I was enjoying my own little paradise + in yielding to the moods of cloud and sky. To this very hour I am + convinced that the skies broke my nerve that night, that those incidents + merely furnished them with an opportunity to get their work in more + tellingly. + </p> + <p> + Of the remainder of the drive little needs to be said. I found a way out + of the field, back to the road, drove into the yard of the farm where I + had seen the light, knocked at the house, and asked for and obtained the + night’s accommodation for myself and for my horses. + </p> + <p> + At six o’clock next morning I was on the road again. Both I and the horses + had shaken off the nightmare, and through a sprinkling, dusting fall of + snow we made the correction line and finally home in the best of moods and + conditions. + </p> + <p> + END <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Over Prairie Trails, by Frederick Philip Grove + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OVER PRAIRIE TRAILS *** + +***** This file should be named 6111-h.htm or 6111-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/1/1/6111/ + +Produced by Gardner Buchanan, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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