So, after a time, we managed to lead on a riderless horse. It
generally sank to the stirrups, and after floundering on a dozen paces
was worn out. But the second did better. Thus in this way the twenty or
so of us managed to prepare a sort of road for the rest, who with
hanging heads (though many of them had seemed our best men) advanced
along it without even dismounting! But this was no time for reproof or
authority. Every man of spirit hastens to such work of himself, and the
rest do not count. In this way after three or four days we reached a
cave at the foot of the Zirrin Pass. That day the wind and storm were
dreadful; the snow fell in quantities; we all expected to meet death
together. The snow was so deep, the path so narrow, the days were at
shortest. The first of the troops reached the cave while it was yet
daylight; but some men had to wait for morning on horseback. The cave
seemed to be too small for all, so I would not go in. I felt that for me
to be warm and comfortable while my men were in snow and drift; for me
to sleep at my ease while my followers were in trouble and distress,
would be unfair. I felt that whatever their sufferings might be, I ought
to share them. So I took a hoe and dug down into the snow as deep as my
breast; this gave me some shelter from the wind, and I sat down in the
hole. By bedtime prayers the snow had fallen so fast that four inches of
it had settled on my head----'"
Here Old Faithful paused and shook his head gravely.
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