And need for provender had begun to wax stronger among the folk of the wilderness than their inborn dread of humans.
"There's a big snowstorm coming up," ruminated the Master, as he scanned the grim weather-signs.

"A blizzard, perhaps.

I--I hope it won't delay any incoming steamers.

I hope at least one of them will dock on schedule.

It--" He turned back from his musings, aware for the first time that a right sprightly dialogue was going on.