The darkness did not abate. The wind rose instead of
falling, and the snow thickened. It lay on the plain several inches
deep, and the walking grew harder. At last the two, the boy and the
horse, stopped. Ned knew that they had come into some kind of a
depression, and the full force of the hurricane passed partly over their
heads.
It was yet very dark, and the driving snow scarcely permitted him to
open his eyes, but by feeling about a little he found that one side of
the dip was covered with a growth of dwarf bushes. He led the horse into
the lower edge of these, where some protection was secured, and,
crouching once more in the lee of the animal, he unfolded the two
blankets, which he wrapped closely about himself to the eyes.
Ned, for the first time since the Norther rushed down upon him, felt
secure. He would not freeze to death, he would escape the fate that
sometimes overtook lone hunters or travelers upon those vast plains.
Warmth from the blankets began gradually to replace the chill in his
bones, and the horse and the bushes together protected his face from the
driven snow which had been cutting like hail. He even had, in some
degree, the sense of comfort which one feels when safe inside four walls
with a storm raging past the windows.
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