If there had been trees, Joan's heart would not have choked so with terror.

But there was nothing--nothing but that gray ghostly gloom, with the rim of the sky touching the earth a mile away.
The snow grew heavy under her feet again.

Always she was watching for those treacherous, frost-coated traps in the ice her father had spoken of.

But she found now that all the ice and snow looked alike to her, and that there was a growing pain back of her eyes.

It was the intense cold.
The river widened into a small lake, and here the wind struck her in the face with such force that her weight was taken from the strap, and Kazan dragged the sledge alone.