Not a word was spoken among the party as they plodded along.

The guide kept ahead, using the greatest caution wherever the path was obliterated by the snow, sometimes even sounding with his iron-shod staff to be sure that they were upon the level rock.

In spite of his warm cloak Cuthbert felt that he was becoming chilled to the bone.

His horse could with difficulty keep his feet; and Cnut and the archers lagged behind.
"You must keep together, lads," he shouted.

"I have heard that in these mountains when sleepiness overpowers the traveler, death is at hand.
Therefore, come what may, we must struggle on." Many times the gale was so violent that they were obliged to pause and take shelter under the side of a rock or precipice until the fury of the blast had passed; and Cuthbert eagerly looked out for the next refuge.
At last they reached it, and the guide at once entered.