"Get on the sledge, doctor; we'll push." But Costa shook his head, pointed to the panting horse, and dragged himself onward.
The poacher must have sent his arrows in a strange curve, for one quarter of an hour after another slipped by, and the top was not yet gained.

Meantime it grew lighter and lighter, and the charcoal-burner, with increasing anxiety, ever and anon raised his head, and glanced aside.

The sky was covered with clouds-the light overhead grey, dim, and blended with mist.

The snow was still dazzling, though it no longer sparkled and glittered, but covered every object with the dull whiteness of chalk.
Ulrich kept beside the sledge to push it.

When Ruth heard him groan, she stroked the hand that grasped the edges, this pleased him; and he smiled.
When they again stopped, this time on the crest of the ridge, Ulrich noticed that the charcoal-burner was sniffing the air like a hound, and asked: "What is it, Marxle ?" The poacher grinned, as he answered: "It's going to snow; I smell it." The road now led down towards the valley, and, after a short walk, the charcoal-burner said: "We shall find shelter below with Jorg, and a warm fire too, you poor women." These were cheering words, and came just at the right time, for large snow-flakes began to fill the air, and a light breeze drove them into the travellers' faces.