Snow had been falling heavily all night, and there seemed no sign of its ceasing. All marks of the road were completely obliterated, and it would evidently test to the utmost his knowledge of woodcraft to keep in the right track. Such was the condition of affairs that called forth the exclamation reported at the beginning of this story. However, there was nothing to gain by delay, so hardly waiting to snatch a bite of food and to allow their horses to finish their portion of oats, they harnessed up and drove forth into the storm. Even had the track been easily distinguishable, they could not have made rapid progress, for the snow came in big, blinding flakes that were very bewildering, and had already covered the ground to a depth of nearly a foot. By the aid of familiar landmarks, Mr. Maynard was able for a time to direct their course accurately enough; but about mid-day they reached a wide lake which they had to cross, and here their real difficulties began. The broad expanse of Loon Lake had presented a fine playground for the wind, and upon it the snow was heaped in vast drifts, far surpassing anything met with in the woods, where the trees afforded protection. In these drifts the horses and sleigh soon stuck so fast that their extrication was evidently quite beyond the power of the passengers. There seemed no alternative but to abandon them to their fate, and to continue the journey on snow-shoes, which, fortunately, were lashed to the back of the sleigh. Mr. Maynard felt sorely reluctant to desert his faithful horses, but no time could be spared for unavailing regrets. "There’s no help for it, Harry," he said resolutely. "We’ll have to leave them where they are. We cannot get them out, and we’ve enough to do to look after ourselves." The poor creatures whinnied appealingly as their human companions moved off, and made frantic efforts to follow, but the remorseless snow-drift held them fast. [Illustration: "THE POOR CREATURES WHINNIED APPEALINGLY."] It was certainly a pity to leave two such fine animals to perish, but yet what could be done? Striding along on the snow-shoes, in the use of which they were both expert, the superintendent and Harry made better progress than they had been doing in the sleigh, and now the chief anxiety was to hit the right spot on the other side of the lake, where the road continued through the woods. On a clear day Mr. Maynard would have found little difficulty in doing this, but in the midst of a blinding snowstorm it was no easy task; yet their very lives depended upon its successful accomplishment. When they reached the middle of the lake they were dismayed to discover that the heavily-falling snow shrouded not only the shore for which they were making, but the one which they had left. They were absolutely without a mark to guide them. Here was an unexpected peril. Mr. Maynard halted and strove to peer through the ominous obscurity of white, but on every side it was the same.