He began to realize that perhaps the woman to whose rescue he was hastening might die in spite of his efforts, and that it was not unthinkable that he and his guide might die even before her. The wind was cold and searching, piercing through all those garments that he had thought too superfluous when he started. He thought of how it would feel to freeze to death, and his mind went racing through the experiences he had read of explorers at the poles. He knew all this was ridiculous. He was probably not fifty miles from the warm, bright house party where he had expected to spend this day and evening, certainly not more than three from the farmhouse he had just left with its Christmas lights agleam and civilization all around him; yet civilization seemed as remote as if he had been in Alaska or Greenland.

But Lance was maneuvering his snow shovel out of its sling on his back, and attacking the wall of snow ahead of him. So Alan wriggled his shovel around and got it free, conscious that it was good to get it off his back for a while.

Together they worked, burrowing through the drift, until at last they had tunneled a way out of the maze of whiteness, and a flash of the light showed a dim outline of trees off to the side in two indistinct lines. Lance shouted that it was a road, their road, and with a sinking heart Alan plunged off into it after Lance, thankful for a guide-line around his waist that made it unnecessary to look where he was going. For now as they faced to the right the wind was directly in their faces again, and the sleet was more cutting than before, almost unbearable if one attempted to keep his head up and his eyes open. So he staggered on, wallowing in deeper snow, up to his waist at times, and almost losing his footing again and again. For this new road was rougher than the highway, and it was almost impossible to walk steadily.

The darkness seemed to bring with it a great dread, as if some monster were struggling with them to keep them from going on. Now and again the wind would howl as if the monster had them at his mercy and it was useless to try further. Then the wind would pass, and for a moment there would be surcease, and they could lift their heads and shoot their flashlights ahead, and go mounting up a few steps.

Lance signaled to Alan to use his torch now, for the way was up, and rough and winding. They kept close to the right now, holding to trees where the way was steep, and pulling themselves more than once out of a hollow filled so deeply with snow that it threatened to engulf them.

Now and again Lance would call a halt to rest, and sweep his flashlight upward, but there seemed no end to the high whiteness they were climbing. Would they ever get there? Would the medicine get to the woman in time? Hours…eons seemed to have passed since they started on this terrible journey, and still there was no sign that they would ever be done with it.

But at last Lance stopped by a tree and tied one of their lanterns to a sheltered branch far to the right of the road. Alan turned his flashlight to the left, saw a sheer cliff below him, and thrilled at its white declivity, crept closer to his guide and hastened on, taking comfort in that little flickering light they had left within its frail lantern globe.

Would they ever come back and meet that light again, and would it guide them aright? His head reeled and now he scarcely knew which way he was going.

A little farther up, Lance left the other lantern tied to another tree. They were traveling light now, for they had left their snow shovels at the foot of the mountain, cached at the side of a giant tree where Lance seemed to think he could find them again. But even so the way had been long and hard, and both young men were panting wearily when at last they attained level ground and Alan, exploring with his flashlight, discovered a looming house ahead and gave a shout of joy. It did not matter that the shout was snatched from his lips and cast inaudibly aside by the gale that whistled over their heads as they came up from the woods, which had partly sheltered them for a while. Alan felt they must be winning out, and though he could scarcely drag one foot after the other, they plodded on and suddenly came upon a driveway where there had been an attempt to shovel a path to the garage.

Alan almost felt he must sink down and kiss the roughness of that cleared space, as he stumbled into it and cast weary eyes toward the looming building. He saw to his joy that there were lights in the windows. It was really a dwelling, and there would be warmth and light and a place to sit down, cessation of this pitiless driving of the snow in their faces, and a chance to breathe, a place where motion would be no longer necessary, at least for a while. Rest! Blessed rest! In his longing for rest he had almost lost sight of the object of his coming. Just to have reached there, supposing it was the right place, was enough to have attained. What he was to do when he got there seemed to have ceased to exist.

But now at last they were standing within a spacious hall where light streamed forth in blessed abundance, and a winding stairway of noble lines swept upward. It was warm there, blessedly warm.

Alan staggered into a chair and dropped down, his face in his hands. The sudden warmth and light dazzled him, and almost took his senses from him. There were parts of him that suddenly seemed dead. He hadn’t been aware of it when they died; it must have happened somewhere out there on the mountain when they were so cold. There was a dull numbness in his arms and legs, especially his legs, and prickling sensations. He cradled his cold, cold face in his hands, and wished he might sleep then and there without waiting for further ceremonies.