It made pictures for Georgia and me upon the branches of
big and little trees; it gathered in a ridge beside us upon the log; it
nestled in piles upon our buffalo robe; and by the time our quarters
were finished, it was veiling Uncle Jacob's from view. Everything
within was cold, damp, and dreary, until our tired mother and elder
sisters built the fire, prepared our supper, and sent us to bed, each
with a lump of loaf sugar as comforter.
[Footnote 3: Thornton.]
CHAPTER VII
SNOWBOUND--SCARCITY OF FOOD AT BOTH CAMPS--WATCHING FOR RETURN OF
M'CUTCHEN AND REED.
When we awoke the following morning, little heaps of snow lay here and
there upon the floor. No threshold could be seen, only a snow-bank
reaching up to the white plain beyond, where every sound was muffled,
and every object was blurred by falling flakes.
Father's face was very grave. His morning caress had all its wonted
tenderness, but the merry twinkle was gone from his eye, and the
gladsome note from his voice. For eight consecutive days, the fatal
snow fell with but few short intermissions. Eight days, in which there
was nothing to break the monotony of torturing, inactive endurance,
except the necessity of gathering wood, keeping the fires, and cutting
anew the steps which led upward, as the snow increased in depth. Hope
well-nigh died within us.
All in camp fared alike, and all were on short rations.
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