A quarter of a mile farther on the traveller saw something on the road in front; as the sound of his pony's jangling bells approached, a horse lifted its head and shook its own bells.

The horse, the sleigh which it ought to have been drawing, were standing still, full in the centre of the road.
The first thought, that it was cheering to come upon the trace of another wayfarer, was checked by the gloomy idea that some impassable drift must bar the way.
The other sleigh was a rough wooden platform on runners.

Upon it a man, wrapped in a ragged buffalo-skin, lay prostrate.

The Englishman jumped to the ground and waded till he could lay his hand upon the recumbent figure.
At the touch the man jumped fiercely, and shook himself from sleep.
Warm, luxurious sleep, only that, seemed to have enthralled him.

His cheeks were red, his aquiline nose, red also, suggested some amount of strong drink; but his black eyes were bright, showing that the senses were wholly alive.