But now, half the lattice was quite blocked up, as if plastered with
gray lime; and little fringes, like ferns, came through, where the
joining of the lead was; and in the only undarkened part, countless dots
came swarming, clustering, beating with a soft, low sound, then gliding
down in a slippery manner, not as drops of rain do, but each distinct
from his neighbour. Inside the iron frame (which fitted, not to say too
comfortably, and went along the stonework), at least a peck of snow had
entered, following its own bend and fancy; light as any cobweb.
With some trouble, and great care, lest the ancient frame should yield,
I spread the lattice open; and saw at once that not a moment must be
lost, to save our stock. All the earth was flat with snow, all the air
was thick with snow; more than this no man could see, for all the world
was snowing.
I shut the window and dressed in haste; and when I entered the kitchen,
not even Betty, the earliest of all early birds, was there. I raked the
ashes together a little, just to see a spark of warmth; and then set
forth to find John Fry, Jem Slocombe, and Bill Dadds. But this was
easier thought than done; for when I opened the courtyard door, I
was taken up to my knees at once, and the power of the drifting cloud
prevented sight of anything. However, I found my way to the woodrick,
and there got hold of a fine ash-stake, cut by myself not long ago. With
this I ploughed along pretty well, and thundered so hard at John
Fry's door, that he thought it was the Doones at least, and cocked his
blunderbuss out of the window.
John was very loth to come down, when he saw the meaning of it; for he
valued his life more than anything else; though he tried to make out
that his wife was to blame. But I settled his doubts by telling him,
that I would have him on my shoulder naked, unless he came in five
minutes; not that he could do much good, but because the other men would
be sure to skulk, if he set them the example. With spades, and shovels,
and pitch-forks, and a round of roping, we four set forth to dig out the
sheep; and the poor things knew that it was high time.
CHAPTER XLII
THE GREAT WINTER
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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