'It's mos' dark now.
Our little house stood tilting forward about half-way down the hill, its runners buried in the snow.

A few hundred yards below was a cliff where the shore fell to the river some thirty feet It had stopped snowing, and the air had grown warmer, but the sky was dark We put nearly all the hay in the sledgehouse under Old Doctor and gave him the last of the oats and a warm cover of blankets.

Then Uncle Eb went away to the fence for more wood, while we spread the supper.

He was very tired, I remember, and we all turned in for the night a short time after we had eaten.

The little stove was roaring like a furnace when we spread our blankets on the sloping floor and lay down, our feet to the front, and drew the warm robes over us.