|On that day certain imperative business demanded my presence in the
lawyer's quarter of the town. I had been summoned, in short, to appear
as a witness in a litigation that was pending in the Court of Common
Pleas--a summons which I felt myself the more disposed to obey inasmuch
as a penalty of two hundred and fifty dollars attached to contempt of
it. Therefore, despite the unprecedented brutality of the weather,
and against the earnest remonstrances of Josephine and Miriam, I was
foolhardy enough to venture out.
The clock on our drawing-room mantel marked a few minutes before ten
when I left the house, my immediate destination being the Jefferson
Street Station of the Overhead Railway--distant not more than a quarter
of a mile from my own door, and in ordinary circumstances an easy five
minutes' walk.
However, it must be remembered, I was at that time within a few months
of completing my seventieth year; and such a storm was raging, and such
a gale blowing, as might have strained the mettle of a youngster one
third my age: a veritable tempest, indeed, the like of which Adironda
had never in the memory of man experienced before. The mercury stood
below zero Fahrenheit; the wind was travelling at the pace of sixty
miles an hour; and the snow was falling in such unheard of quantities as
to obscure the air like fog. I don't mind owning, therefore, that I was
pretty badly exhausted when I arrived at my journey's end, and that I
had consumed a good half-hour in the process of getting there.
My path, as it were, had led through one continuous and unbroken drift,
knee-deep at its shallowest, waist-high at its average, and frequently
engulphing me up to my chin. Through this I had dug and ploughed my way,
with the wind cold and furious in my teeth, and under a running fire of
snow-flakes, frozen so hard, and driven with such force, that they stung
my face like bird-shot, and nearly put out my eyes. I can assure the
reader that it was no child's play. My nose and ears, from burning as if
in a bath of scalding water, had become numb and rigid, like features of
wood. The moisture from my breath had congealed in my beard, until
that appendage felt like an iron mask. My legs were stiff and heavy.
My shoulders ached. My respiration had become painful and laborious; my
heart-action so faint as to induce sickness similar to that which one
suffers at sea.
And finally, to cap the climax, when I reached the station, I found a
chain stretched across the entrance to the booking-office, and a placard
announcing that no trains were running! So that I had earned my labour
for my pains; and there was nothing for me to do but to turn my face
back toward home, and retrace my steps.
Exhausted as I was, then, I set forth at once upon that undertaking.
Of course, it was excessively imprudent for me to do so, without first
seeking shelter in some public house, and resting there until I had got
warmed through, and in a measure recovered my strength. But I suppose
I did not realise at the moment how far gone I was; and the prospect of
regaining the comfort of my own fireside was a deliciously tempting one.
So off I started, down Jefferson Street, towards Myrtle Avenue.
Very soon, however, I had reason to repent my rashness. A hundred yards
or thereabouts from the corner, a mountainous drift of snow stretched
diagonally across the road. I was half blinded; my wits were half
frozen; I underestimated both its depth and its width, and plunged
boldly into it.
Next instant I found myself buried up to my neck.
I struggled to push on. My legs were as immovable as if bound with
ropes.
Then I strove to dig myself free with my hands. My arms, too, I learned,
were pinioned as in a strait-waistcoat.
Here was a pleasant predicament, and one that constantly increased in
interest; for, to say nothing of the deadly and aggressive cold, the
snow was pouring down upon me by the bucket-full; and I appreciated very
vividly the fact that unless I speedily effected an escape, I should be
covered over my head.
My only hope, it was obvious, lay in calling for assistance. Whether
other human beings were within hearing distance or not, I had no means
of discovering; for, so opaque was the atmosphere rendered by the
multitude of snow-flakes that filled it, I could see nothing beyond a
radius of two or three yards; and even the houses that lined the street
were indistinguishable, except when, by fits and starts, for a second at
a time, the wind rent asunder the veil that hid them. Nevertheless,
my only hope lay in trying the experiment of a cry for help; and that
accordingly I did, with the utmost energy I could command:
“Help! help!”
But at the sound of my voice, my heart sank. It was the still, small
ghost of itself, to such a degree had the exposure and the hardship of
the last half-hour depleted my physical resources; and besides, dampened
by the blanket of snow in which I was enveloped, and lost in the roar
of the hurricane, the likelihood that it would carry beyond a rod in any
direction seemed infinitesimally slight.
“Well, I am lost,” thought I. “Here, not five hundred yards from my own
doorstep, lost as hopelessly as if wrecked in mid-ocean. Ah, well! they
say death by freezing is comparatively painless. Anyhow, it will soon be
over. Yet----”
Suddenly, with the desperate unreasonableness of a man in
extremities--like him who, drowning, clutches at a chip--I repeated my
feeble signal of distress: “Help! help!”
I waited half a minute, and then repeated it for a third time: “Help!”
Conceive my emotions, to hear instantly, and from immediately behind me,
the response, in the lustiest of baritones: “Hello, there!”
“Heaven be praised!” I gasped. Then: “Can you help me out of this
drift?”
“That remains to be tried,” came the reply. “I shouldn't wonder,
though.”
And therewith I felt myself seized by two strong arms, lifted bodily
from off my feet, and a moment later set down upon a spot of the
pavement which the wind had swept clean, where I had a chance to see and
to thank mv rescuer.