They were all on the porch the next morning to see March off. It was
not so very cold, but there was a marked chill in the air and the sky
was leaden.
"It's my last day, mother, then vacation for two weeks. Hooray!" He
leaped into the saddle, and Fleet reared gently to show her approval.
"Don't you get out a little earlier to-day, March?" said his mother,
looking up at the leaden sky. "I 'm afraid it's going to snow heavily.
Promise me not to start from Barton's if the storm is a hard one; you
can stay at the inn or at the principal's. I would rather you remained
away from home two days, or over Sunday, than to have you attempt the
Mountain in too severe a storm."
"I 'll be careful, mother."
"Better give your promise to your mother, March; she 'll feel better
'bout you 're not startin' out," said Chi.
"I promise, little Mother Blossom." He threw himself off the horse, and
gave her another kiss; "I would n't go to-day except for the exams.--I
can't miss them."
"Good luck, dear," said his mother, and her eyes followed the horse and
rider down the Mountain.
"I 'll go over the first thing 'n' give them posies to Marier-Ann, 'n'
then I 'll make tracks for home, 'n' get my snow-shed up before it
begins to come down."
"Do you think we shall need it?"
"Sure 's fate," replied Chi, laconically, and went into the barn to
harness Bess.
It was noon before Chi had set up his snow-shed, a long, low, wooden
tunnel, which he had manufactured to connect the woodshed door with a
side door of the barn. By means of this he was enabled, in unusually
heavy storms, to communicate with the barn and attend to the stock
without "shovelling out."
It was about three in the afternoon when the first flakes began to fall,
or rather to "spit," as Chi expressed it, and the snow fell
intermittently and lightly until four, when there was a sudden change of
wind. It veered to the north-east, and blast after blast, charged with
icy particles, hurled itself against the Mountain. Within half an hour
it was almost as dark as at midnight, and the snow swept in drifting
clouds over woodlands and pasture. When the wind ceased for a moment,
white, soft avalanches descended upon farmhouse, barn, and
mountain-road, until, by six o'clock, the road was impassable and the
drifts at the back of the house a foot above the bedroom windows. Chi
had made all snug for the night.
"This beats anything I ever saw, Mis' Blossom. I 'm mighty glad Ben
ain't comin' home to-day, 'n' that March gave you the promise to stay at
Barton's if it stormed hard."
"You don't think he would venture to start, do you, Chi?" asked Mrs.
Blossom, trying not to appear anxious for the sake of the others.
"Bless you, no;" was Chi's hearty response. "March has got too level a
head to risk himself 'n' Fleet in such a storm--it's a regular howler of
a blizzard. If he did start," he added, "he 'd go in somewheres on the
road--he couldn't get far."
After tea there was no settling down to the cosey evening pastimes or
employments. If such a thing could be, the storm seemed to increase in
severity. The wind struck the house at times with terrific force; the
intermittent drift of snow and ice against the window panes startled the
inmates of the long-room like the rattle of small shot. Chi had put out
the fire in the fireplace before supper, for the wind drove flame and
ashes out into the room.
Again and again Mrs. Blossom went to the windows--first one then
another, and pressed her face close to the pane; but they were plastered
so thick with snow that her efforts to see into the night were
fruitless. Chi sat by the kitchen stove, which he had filled with wood.
His boots rested on the fender, and, apparently, he was indifferent to
the storm. But, in reality, not the creak of a beam, not the springing
of a board, not an unwonted sound within or without the house escaped
his notice.
In marked contrast to Chi's apparent apathy was Tell's restlessness.
Since six o'clock he had shown signs of uneasiness. With strides, heavy
and long, the huge beast paced up and down the long-room. Sometimes he
followed Mrs. Blossom to the window, and, sitting down on his haunches
beside her, rested his nose on the window sill and gazed at the whitened
panes. At others he took his stand beside Chi and looked into his face,
their eyes meeting on a level as the man sat and the dog stood. The dog
looked as if he were questioning him dumbly.
As the evening wore on the dog's pace grew more rapid, more uneven; his
tail waved in a jerky, excited manner. At last he lay down by the shed
door, and, placing his nose on the threshold, gave vent to a long, low,
half-stifled moan. At the sound Chi brought down his heels and the
tipped chair-legs with a thump, and started to his feet. Mrs. Blossom
turned to him with a white face, and Rose cried out:--
"Oh, Chi! What is the matter with Tell? He never acted this way
before."
"Don't know," said Chi, shortly; "dumb beasts are curious creatures.
Guess he don't like the storm. I 'll go out, Mis' Blossom, 'n' see if
the stock 's all right. Kind of looks as if Tell was givin' us a
warnin'."
"Oh, Chi, don't go through the tunnel now," cried Mrs. Blossom, all the
pent-up anxiety finding expression in her voice.
Chi manufactured a laugh: "That's all safe, Mis' Blossom. I chained it
and roped it down, both--it can't get away, 'n' the snow can't crush it.
Don't you worry about me. I 'll be back inside of fifteen minutes." He
took his lantern from the shelf over the sink:--"Get up, Tell." The dog
rose, but, as Chi opened the door, he tried to push past him. Chi
crowded him with his leg:--"No you don't, old feller! there ain't room
only for just one of us to-night. Lay down!"
And Tell lay down, with his nose on his paws, and both nose and paws
pressed close to the crack on the threshold. Another long crescendo
moan, that, at the last, sounded like a sharp wail, filled the
long-room, and Budd and Cherry clung to their mother in terror.
"You must go to bed, children," said Mrs. Blossom, her face white as the
snow on the window panes, but with a voice of forced calm. "When you
're asleep, you won't hear all this trouble the storm is raising
to-night."
"But I don't want to sleep upstairs alone without March, Martie,"
protested Budd, trying to be brave, but showing his fear.
"You can sleep in Hazel's room to-night, Budd, and Cherry can get into
my bed and sleep with me."
The twins looked relieved. "Oh, that's different, Martie," said Budd,
with a grateful look. Cherry begged for a little cotton wool to stuff
in her ears:--"Then I can't hear Tell and this awful noise." A novel
idea, which Budd at once adopted and put into practice. Their mother
looked relieved when they were safely bestowed in their new quarters.
About ten minutes afterwards they heard Chi's steps in the shed. Then
the door opened slowly, as he shoved Tell aside. When he entered the
room Mrs. Blossom gave one look at his face.
"Oh, Chi, what has happened!" She cried out as if hurt.
Chi's face showed grayish white and drawn in the lamplight. His hand
shook a little as he reached for a second lantern, turning his back on
the three terrified faces.
"Horse stalled, that's all. Had a tough tussle to get him round, but he
's all right now." His voice sounded hoarse.
"Was it Bob or Bess?" asked Rose.
Chi, without answering, turned quickly to Tell, who was pressing him
nearly off his feet, and at the same time, lashing his tail as if in
fury.
"What ails you, anyway?" said Chi, roughly. "D' you want to get out?"
For answer the dog rushed to the front door that opened on the porch,
rose on his hind legs, stemmed his powerful forepaws against the panels
and, throwing back his massive head, sent forth from his deep throat a
roar that seemed to shake the rafters.
"Mis' Blossom," Chi's voice shook and his hand trembled till the glass
globe of the lantern tinkled in the wire frame, "I 'm goin' to let him
out, 'n' I 'm goin' to follow on--there 's trouble somewhere on the
Mountain, 'n' I 'm goin' to find out where 't is."
All three cried out, protesting, entreating, praying him to desist. But
Chi shook his head.
"I tell you I 've _got_ to go, Mary Blossom"--Chi had never called her
that but once before, and Mrs. Blossom, recalling the time, felt her
heart as lead within her--"you're brave,--brave as a woman can be; don't
say nothin', but let me go. Have plenty of hot water 'n' flannels, 'n'
some spirits ready 'gainst I come back--"
"Lady-bird, give me the dog collar with the bell you gave Tell last
Chris'mus; 'n' Molly Stark, fill your mother's hot water-bag--'n' hurry
up; 'n' Mis' Blossom, give me Ben's brandy flask, he didn't take it with
him."
Chi, while issuing these orders, was strapping down his trousers over
his long boots; then he poured out a brimming cup of hot water, and
mixed with it some of the brandy from the flask. He put the collar on
Tell, the bell ringing loud and clear with every movement. He opened
the door; the dog bounded out into the night. Chi followed him, a coil
of rope around his neck, a shovel over one shoulder with a lantern
suspended from the handle, and in his hand a second lantern. The
hot-water bag he had put beneath his sweater, and a leathern belt girded
him.
So equipped he went out into the drifting snows and the night of storm.
The terrified women were left alone.
"Mother, oh, mother!" cried Rose, wringing her hands, "I know it's
something dreadful; Chi would never look that way."
Mary Blossom could not answer. Her silence was prayer. It was all of
which she was capable at that time.
"I don't know what the matter was in the barn, mother," again cried
Rose, in an agony of fear. "Chi did n't tell us all, I 'm sure. Let me
go through the tunnel and find out, do, mother!"
"Oh, Rose, I can't--I can't!" Mrs. Blossom spoke under her breath.
"Please, mother. It 's all safe, and the wind has gone down a little
since Chi went; let me go--I can't rest till I do. You can hold the
light at the shed door end and I won't be gone but a minute or two. I
'll take the dark lantern with me--Oh, mother! do, do--!"
"Well, Rose, perhaps it's for the best. I 'll watch you through."
"May I watch, too?" asked Hazel, eagerly.
"No, dear, I want you to stay here in case the children should wake.
Come, Rose."
They were gone but a few minutes; then Mrs. Blossom came in followed by
her daughter. The girl's teeth were chattering; she looked blue and
pinched.
"What did you find, Rose?" Her mother's voice was scarce above a
whisper.
"_I found Fleet!_"
The two women sat down on the settle, holding each other close; and the
wind rose again in its fury.
Wrapping a heavy shawl about her Hazel crept away upstairs to the back
garret and the window overlooking the woods'-road, which formed the
approach to the house. There was a little snow-drift beneath it where
the flakes had sifted through; but the wind was felt less severely on
that side of the house. She opened the window a few inches, propping it
on a corn cob she had stepped upon; then, kneeling, she put her ear to
the opening and strained her hearing in every lull of the storm.
At last--she knew not how long she had listened--she heard Tell's deep
roar. It came muffled, but distinct. She scarce trusted her ears; but
again she heard it, and, this time, in a dead silence, she caught the
sound of the bell. Surely Tell was nearing the house. She ran
downstairs.
"They 're coming!" she cried, hardly realizing what she said in her
excitement. Mrs. Blossom and Rose leaped to their feet. They threw
open the door.
"Chi! Chi!" they called out into the night. There was a joyous bark
for answer---then a groan, and Chi staggered across the snow-laden porch
and fell with his heavy burden on the threshold.
At midnight the wind went down, but the snow continued to fall. All the
next day it fell steadily, but at sunset it ceased, and a young moon
looked over the shoulder of Mount Hunger upon an unbroken white coverlet
that, in some places, was drifted to the depth of twenty feet.
There was twilight in Aunt Tryphosa's little cabin "over eastwards," for
the snow was piled to the eaves, and the tulips furnished their only
sunshine for two days.
There was consternation at Hunger-ford, for the family were cut off from
their neighbors and the outside world of letters and papers.
There were councils at Lemuel's and the Spillkinses'--for how could they
gather their forces to break out the Mountain?
There were heavy hearts and reddened eyelids in the farmhouse, for
March, rescued by Chi and revived by vigorous treatment, had succumbed
to the exposure and chill, and lay unconscious in fever--and no help at
hand.
Chi, spent to exhaustion, had rallied at midnight, but knew that it was
beyond human powers to attempt to reach Barton's or even Lemuel Wood's,
their next neighbor, through the drifts.
So they waited, helpless--one day, two days. On the second day the
white expanse showed no tracks. Then March began to wander, and clutch
his breast, where his mother had found the telegram, which his father
had sent to him from Ogdensburg:--
"Heavy blizzard. Roads blocked. Tell mother at once. Don't worry."
Chi walked the house night and day in his misery of helplessness. At
last, on the third day, looking eastwards he descried a black blotch on
the white,--it was a four-ox team breaking out from the Fords'. Later
in the day, when the men were within two hundred yards of the house, he
saw another black spot on the lower road. It was the Mill Settlement
road-team, with a full equipment of men and tools, to cut a way through
the drifts.
Soon there was help and to spare. Alan Ford was riding down the narrow
way between high walls of glittering white to Barton's for aid, and
bringing back telegrams of anxious inquiry from Mr. Blossom and Mr.
Clyde. On the fourth day, the blockade was raised, and the south-bound
express to Barton's River brought Mr. Blossom from the north, and
another train brought Mr. Clyde from the south. Two days after all the
Lost Nation knew that March would live.