Besides, who could wade up to their necks in snow for half a mile, let
alone three?"
"But the snow won't be so deep on the fells as in these cuttings."
"That's true, I suppose. But get into a drift on the fell--and, Lord,
that would be easy enough--you're done. And there's becks deep enough to
drown a man, and you'll never see them till you're up to your chin in
their icy waters. I wouldn't chance it for anything. We mun wait here
till we're dug out, sir, and that's all about it."
"Where is that farm, guard? Behind which shoulder of the fell?"
"Look here, Acton," began Dick Worcester, apprehensively, "I'm hanged if
we're going to let you go groping about for any blessed farm in this
storm. We'll eat the coals in the tender first!"
"Thanks, Dick. Which shoulder, guard?"
The man explained as fully and elaborately as if he might as well talk
as think. The shoulder of the fell was noted by Acton exactly and
carefully, even to borrowing a compass pendant off Todd's historic
watch--chain.
"It lies exactly N.N.E., and one could find one's way in the dark if
that were all."
"But it isn't, Acton," said Grim, anxiously, "not by a long chalk. Oh,
Acton, don't go!"
"I'm going to turn over the idea, Grim. But, anyhow, I don't stir out of
this cutting until the snow's out of the sky."
Acton and the guard talked long and seriously, whilst the Amorians put
into practical working Senior's idea of a fire beside the van. There
were coals galore.
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