“Where are we, I wonder, Conrad?” asked the girl.

“I don’t know,” he answered.  “If I only could see something with my eyes,” he continued, “that I could take my direction from.”

But there was nothing about them but the blinding white, white everywhere which drew an ever narrowing circle about them, passing, beyond it, into a luminous mist descending in bands which consumed and concealed all objects beyond, until there was nothing but the unceasingly descending snow.

“Wait, Sanna,” said the boy, “let us stand still for a moment and listen, perhaps we might hear a sound from the valley, a dog, or a bell, or the mill, or a shout, something we must hear, and then we shall know which way to go.”

So they remained standing, but they heard nothing.  They remained standing a little longer, but nothing came, not a single sound, not the faintest noise beside their own breath, aye, in the absolute stillness they thought they could hear the snow as it fell on their eyelashes.  The prediction of grandmother had still not come true; no wind had arisen, in fact, what is rare in those regions, not a breath of air was stirring.

After having waited for a long time they went on again.

“Never mind, Sanna,” said the boy, “don’t be afraid, just follow me and I shall lead you down yet.—­If only it would stop snowing!”

The little girl was not faint-hearted, but lifted her little feet as well as she could and followed him.  He led her on in the white, bright, living, opaque space.

After a time they saw rocks.  Darkling and indistinct they loomed up out of the white opaque light.  As the children approached they almost bumped against them.  They rose up like walls and were quite perpendicular so that scarcely a flake of snow could settle on them.

“Sanna, Sanna,” he said, “there are the rocks, just let us keep on, let us keep on.”

They went on, had to enter in between the rocks and push on at their base.  The rocks would let them escape neither to left nor right and led them on in a narrow path.  After a while the children lost sight of them.  They got away from the rocks as unexpectedly as they had got among them.  Again, nothing surrounded them but white, no more dark forms interposed.  They moved in what seemed a great brightness and yet could not see three feet ahead, everything being, as it were, enveloped in a white darkness, and as there were no shadows no opinion about the size of objects was possible.  The children did not know whether they were to descend or ascend until some steep slope compelled their feet to climb.

“My eyes smart,” said Sanna.

“Don’t look on the snow,” answered the boy, “but into the clouds.  Mine have hurt a long time already; but it does not matter, because I must watch our way.  But don’t be afraid, I shall lead you safely down to Gschaid.”

“Yes, Conrad.”

They went on; but wheresoever they turned, whichever way they turned, there never showed a chance to descend.  On either side steep acclivities hemmed them in, and also made them constantly ascend.  Whenever they turned downward the slopes proved so precipitous that they were compelled to retreat.  Frequently they met obstacles and often had to avoid steep slopes.