They counted the smokes--Peterson, Johnson, Clark, McGill, Townsend, one after another; and where they saw smoke they rejoiced, and where they saw none they stopped.

Often it was but to nail fast the door.
With perfect horsemanship Sam drove his team rapidly on to the south, five miles, ten miles, fifteen, the horses now warming up, but still restless and nervous, even on the way so familiar to them from their frequent journeyings.

The steam of their breath enveloped the travellers in a wide, white cloud.

The rude runners crushed into and over the packed drifts, or along the sandy grime where the wind had swept the earth bare of snow.

In less than an hour they would see the Halfway House.