But disuse, or cold, or her own lack of strength prevented and she was presently reduced to asking Riatt to help her. He did not volunteer his assistance. She had definitely and directly to ask for it. Then he was friendliness itself. “Just stand by the horse’s head, will you?” he said, and when he saw her stationed there, he sprang out, and with an almost insulting ease opened the door. Just as he did so, however, a gust of wind, fiercer than any other, swept round the corner of the house and carried away Christine’s hat. She made a quick gesture to catch it, and as she did so, struck the horse under the chin. The animal reared, and Christine jumped aside to avoid being struck by its hoofs; the next instant, it had thrown its head in the air, and started at full speed down the road, dragging the empty sleigh after it. Riatt, who had his back turned, did not see the beginning of the incident, but a cry from Christine soon roused his attention, and he started in pursuit, calling to the animal to stop, in the hope that the human voice might succeed when all other methods were quite obviously useless. But the horse, now thoroughly excited by the hanging reins, the bells, and the sense of its own power, went only faster and faster, and finally disappeared at full speed. Riatt came slowly back; he was sinking in the snow to his waist at every step. Christine was watching him with some anxiety. “Is there a telephone in the house?” he asked. She shook her head. “No, it’s disconnected when we leave in the autumn.” There was a moment’s silence, then she said questioningly: “What shall we do?” “There’s only one thing we can do,” he returned; “go into the house and light a fire.” But Christine hesitated. “I don’t think it will be wise to waste time doing that,” she said, “if you have to go back on foot to the Usshers’--” “Go back on foot!” Riatt interrupted. “My dear Miss Fenimer, that is quite impossible. It must be every inch of ten miles, it’s dark, a blizzard is blowing, I don’t know the way, and we haven’t passed a house.” “But, but,” said she, “suppose they don’t rescue us to-night?” “They probably will to-morrow,” answered Riatt, and he walked past her into the house. CHAPTER II Christine was glad to get out of the wind, but the damp chill of the deserted house was not much of an improvement. Ahead of her in the darkness, she could hear Riatt snapping electric switches which produced nothing. “Isn’t the light connected?” he called. “I don’t know.” “Aren’t there lamps in the house?” “I don’t know.” “Where could I find some candles?” “What a tiresome man!” she thought; and for the third time she answered: “I don’t know.” A rather unappreciative grunt was his only reply, and then he called back: “You’d better stay where you are, till I find something to make a light.”