The children began to walk again, but the snow blinded their eyes and the wind continued to take their breath way.  Jessie Smiley fell over a curb stone and began to cry and Helen Graham, who had not said a word, sat down in the snow and declared she wasn’t going a step further.

“I think we’re lost and we’ll be buried in the snow and never, never found any more!” she said.  Helen liked exciting stories and she had heard so many she thought she could tell a few herself and, as it proved, she could.

“I don’t want to be buried in the snow!” cried Jessie.  “I won’t be buried and never, never found any more.”

“You can’t help yourself,” Helen informed her.  “Oh-h, my feet are cold!”

“Well, I don’t b’lieve we’re going home,” admitted Jimmie Butterworth, working his arms up and down to get them warm.  “I think we’d better walk the other way.”

So they all turned around and began to walk in the opposite direction.  The wind turned, too, and the snow came into their faces faster than ever.

“Look out!” screamed Helen Graham, as they stumbled across a street.  “Here comes something!”

Something big and black was coming toward them out of the snowstorm.  It moved slowly and Jimmie Butterworth said he thought it was a battleship.

“Who ever saw a battleship on the land?” said Perry Phelps.  “I’ll bet you it is a—­a cow.”

Perry said this hastily because he had thought at first the thing coming toward them was a motor truck, but before he could say so his quick eyes had made out four moving legs.

“It’s a horse and wagon,” said Sunny Boy.  “Let’s ask the driver to give us a ride home.”

“Hey, mister!” shouted the boys as the wagon came close to them.  “Let us in?  Where are you going?  Let us ride with you, please?”

The horse stopped, but no one answered.  It seemed, tired, poor animal, and stood with its head down and winking its eyes to keep the snow out of them.

“Let us ride with you?” said Jimmie Butterworth politely.  “I think some of us are lost.”

Sunny Boy moved closer to the wagon.  He peered in where the driver should sit.  He could not see any one, and he noticed that the reins were tied around the whip handle.

“I don’t believe any one is driving this horse,” he said suddenly.

CHAPTER X

WHERE THE HORSE LIVED

Sunny Boy was right.  The children stared at each other in surprise and the little girls forgot that their feet were cold.  Who ever heard of a horse and wagon without a driver?

“Is he running away?” asked Jessie Smiley.

“Silly, of course he isn’t,” retorted Jimmie Butterworth.  “A horse can’t run away in a snowstorm.  I tell you what let’s do—­let’s get in and drive him home!”

“How do you know where he lives?” said Helen Graham.