A torrent of snow swept in, covering my face and breast in a moment.

It did something more: it cleared my brain, and I remembered my poor horse standing in this blinding gale under cover of the snow-packed pines.

Every one knew my horse.

I could commit no greater folly than to flee by the rear fields while such a witness to my presence remained in full view in front.

With the sensation of a trapped animal, I reclosed the window and cast about for a safe corner where I could lie concealed until I learned what had brought these men here and how much I really had to fear from their presence.
I had but little time in which to choose.