It was pitch dark and the horses wading to their bellies and the snow coming faster when we turned into Rattleroad.  I should not have known the turn when we came to it, but a horse knows more than a man in the dark.  Soon I heard a loud halloo and knew that it was the voice of Uncle Peabody.  He had started out to meet me in the storm and Shep was with him.

“Thank God I’ve found ye!” he shouted.  “I’m blind and tired out and I couldn’t keep a lantern goin’ to save me.  Are ye froze?”

“I’m all right, but these horses are awful tired.  Had to let ’em rest every few minutes.”

I told him about the wagon—­and how it relieved me to hear him say: 

“As long as you’re all right, boy, I ain’t goin’ to worry ‘bout the ol’ wagon—­not a bit.  Where’d ye git yer jumper?”

“Made it with the ax and some nails,” I answered.

I didn’t hear what he said about it for the horses were wallowing and we had to stop and paw and kick the snow from beneath them as best we could before it was possible to back out of our trouble.  Soon we found an entrance to the fields—­our own fields not far from the house—­where Uncle Peabody walked ahead and picked out the best wading.  After we got to the barn door at last he went to the house and lighted his lantern and came back with it wrapped in a blanket and Aunt Deel came with him.

How proud it made me to hear him say: 

“Deel, our boy is a man now—­made this jumper all ‘lone by himself an’ has got through all right.”

She came and held the lantern up to my face and looked at my hands.

“Well, my stars, Bart!” she exclaimed in a moment.  “I thought ye would freeze up solid—­ayes—­poor boy!”

The point of my chin and the lobes of my ears and one finger were touched and my aunt rubbed them with snow until the frost was out.

We carried the grist in and Aunt Deel made some pudding.  How good it was to feel the warmth of the fire and of the hearts of those who loved me!  How I enjoyed the pudding and milk and bread and butter!

“I guess you’ve gone through the second peril that ol’ Kate spoke of,” said Aunt Deel as I went up-stairs.

Uncle Peabody went out to look at the horses.

When I awoke in the morning I observed that Uncle Peabody’s bed had not been slept in.  I hurried down and heard that our off-horse had died in the night of colic.  Aunt Deel was crying.  As he saw me Uncle Peabody began to dance a jig in the middle of the floor.

“Balance yer partners!” he shouted.  “You an’ I ain’t goin’ to be discouraged if all the hosses die—­be we, Bart?”

“Never,” I answered.

“That’s the talk!  If nec’sary we’ll hitch Purvis up with t’other hoss an’ git our haulin’ done.”

He and Purvis roared with laughter and the strength of the current swept me along with them.

“We’re the luckiest folks in the world, anyway,” Uncle Peabody went on.  “Bart’s alive an’ there’s three feet o’ snow on the level an’ more comin’ an’ it’s colder’n Greenland.”