we went at the same jig-trot, obviously across country, sometimes over snow piled up bushels high, sometimes over brittle, naked ice.
Notwithstanding the cold, the snow on our collars thawed very quickly; the snow drift below increased continually, and fine dry flakes began to fall from above.
It was plain we were going God only knew whither, for after going along for another quarter of an hour we did not see a single verst post.[1]
"What do you think, eh?" I said again to the driver; "do you think we shall get to the station?"
"To which station? We may get back, if the horses take it into their heads to try, they'll take us right enough, but as to reaching the other station, scarcely, we might perish, that's all."
"Then turn back by all means," said I, "at any rate…"
"Turn the horses round, do you mean?"
"Yes, turn 'em round!"
The driver let go the reins. The horses began to run more quickly, and although I observed that we had turned round, yet the wind had changed too, and soon, through the snow the windmills were visible. The driver took heart again and began to be loquacious.
"The Anudiuses got into the drifts and turned back just in the same way when they came from this station," said he, "and passed the night by the haystacks; they only got in by morning. They were only too thankful for the shelter of the
- ↑ Corresponding to our milestone.
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