- shouldered their packs, and guns in hand stiffly
started. The snow was thigh high; the Great White Mountains looming in a long front without end on their right were whiter than ever; the bottoms and the more distant mountains on their left were white. It was snow, snow, snow, everywhere; the very dead of winter.
Now (Good!) here came the lieutenant and the doctor, ploughing down a slope, their packs on their backs, but nothing else. Snowy and breathing hard, they arrived. The men, plodding, had seen; and having given up hope plodded on, saying not a word. Only Sergeant Meek greeted, saluting as best he might:
"All well, cap'n. Good morning to you, sirs."
"No luck this time, sergeant," wheezed the lieutenant, cheerily, but with face pinched and set. "We missed you, and spent the night together in the snow."
"Yes, sir. We couldn't see, for the storm, sir. and had to camp in the nearest shelter."
"You did right, sergeant. The storm was so thick that I found even the compass of little help. The doctor and I became separated and were fearful that we had lost each other as well as the party. Halt the men."
"Squad, halt," rasped the sergeant.
The men waited, panting and coughing.
