After giving the other horses a little hay we returned to the
wagon, where we stayed most of the day. I'm afraid we were a
little frightened by the prospect. Of course, we knew that if it
came to the worst we could leave the wagon and make our way back
along the trail on foot, but we did not want to do that. But as
for getting the wagon back along the narrow road, now blotted out
by the snow, we knew it would be foolish to attempt it. It was
not very cold in the wagon, and Jack played the banjo, and we
were fairly cheerful. The snow kept coming down all day, and by
night it was a foot deep. The pony came in from the flat as it
began to grow dark, and we gave the horses their supper and left
them in the shelter of the rocks. Then we brushed the snow off
the top of the cover, as we had done several times before, and
went in to spend the evening by the light of the lantern. When
bedtime came, Jack looked up and said:
"The cover doesn't seem to sag down. It must have stopped
snowing."
We looked out, and found that it was so.
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