“I was sorry the minute I said it, because I knew the Siwash thought me wrong, although, bein’ an Indian, of course he never showed a sign.  He started up the dogs without a word.  I knew he thought it reckless and dangerous, but tortures wouldn’t have made him say so.  In half an hour’s time, I began to be sure he was right.”

“Did the storm strike as soon as that?” asked the boy.

“No.  If it had, I think I should have gone back.  But at the end of that half-hour, we topped a rise that gave a view of the country ahead an’ showed it to be broken an’ bad travelin’.  I shouldn’t have liked the look of it at any time, but with a storm brewin’ an’ the Indian wantin’ to go back, it sure did look ugly.  But the faint roarin’ of the distant storm sounded no louder, the sky was no heavier, the air no colder, the wind no higher,—­an’ I built my hopes upon a delay in its comin’, an’ plunged on.  We were makin’ good time; the dogs were keepin’ up a fast lick, an’ the Indian ahead, workin’ to break the trail, was movin’ like a streak.  I sure never did see an Indian travel the speed he did.  I was behind, pushin’ the sled, an’ I had to put out all there was in me.  An hour went by, an’ I was just beginnin’ to think that we would be able to cover the greater part of the distance, when a huge white shape rose from the snow near by, passed in front of the sledge, and disappeared.  I’ve been scared once in my life.  This was that once.”

“What was it?” asked Hamilton breathlessly.

“I watched,” the Alaskan continued, “an’ presently about a hundred yards away, an’ a little to the right of the sled, the snow began to move.  I couldn’t feel a breath of wind.  But the snow seemed to writhe an’ stir as though some monster from the Arctic night was wakin’ from his winter sleep, an’ a wisp of snow hurled upwards; then, with a heave the snow crust broke an’ fell apart an’ a column of snow shot up like a geyser swirlin’ into a pillar a hundred feet high.

“A moment it stood; then swayed over an’ begun to move slowly at first, but gatherin’ speed every second, noiselessly, save for a sound like the indrawin’ of a breath and a faint crackin’ as the hard snow crust shivered into atoms where it struck.  Aimlessly, yet seemin’ to have a hidden purpose as though wreathin’ the figures of some Boreal dance, it come near us and fell back; moved away an’ threatened again; then swept upon us till its icy breathin’ gripped our throats, an’ our hearts stood still.

“An’ in the silence, one dog whined.

“Behind the sled there stirred the snow anew, an’ in a moment or two another column threw itself at the sky, and behind us an’ around, other of these columns rose an’ moved like spectral dancers under the slate-green clouds of the snow-filled sky.  No wind, no sound but the lone leader of the team howlin’ in utter fear.”

“A dancing blizzard!” said Barnes, in an awed tone, under his breath.