The old man held a lantern as he stood before me, the blaze flickering.

There was a fearsome darkness all around.
'Come, Willy, make haste,' he whispered, as I rubbed my eyes.

'Put on yer boots, an' here's yer little coat 'n' muffler.' There was a mighty roar in the forest and icy puffs of snow came whistling in upon us.

We stored the robes and pails and buckets and covered the big kettle.
The lofty tree-tops reeled and creaked above us, and a deep, sonorous moan was sweeping through the woods, as if the fingers of the wind had touched a mighty harp string in the timber.

We could hear the crash and thunder of falling trees.
'Make haste! Make haste! It's resky here,' said Uncle Eb, and he held my hand and ran.