The snow grew deeper and Old Doctor went slower every moment.
'Six mild from home,' Uncle Eb muttered, as he held up to rest a moment.
'Six mild from home.

'Fraid we're in fer a night uv it.' We got to the top of Fadden's Hill about dark, and the snow lay so deep in the cut we all got out for fear the house would tip over.

Old Doctor floundered along a bit further until he went down in the drift and lay between the shafts half buried.

We had a shovel that always hung beside a small hatchet in the sledgehouse--for one might need much beside the grace of God of a winter's day in that country--and with it Uncle Eb began to uncover the horse.

We children stood in the sledgehouse door watching him and holding the lantern.