it became almost impossible to discern the path. Then cold, soft
particles brushed his cheek, and he realized that snow was beginning to
fall. In a snowstorm he had no better prospect of finding his way to
his bicycle down below than up to Davie Forbes' house. So he kept
mechanically groping his way upward, although the storm had commenced
in earnest now.

There was less difficulty in progressing while the pretty well-defined
pathway could be kept to; but the falling snow began to obliterate its
traces. His entire surroundings soon became shut out from the man's
vision. He moved on resolutely, although his face smarted and his eyes
were blinded by the steadily descending snow, which surrounded him on
all sides like a moving curtain of grayish white. He owned to himself
that it was impossible to proceed, but what was he to do? To return
was just as impossible!

Fortune at last favored him. Staggering through the wind and snow of
the ever-increasing storm, he ran unexpectedly upon a lofty wall of
rock looking to him like a high cliff. He had evidently lost the path,
for here was an insurmountable obstacle. Clinging to the rough
surface, he cautiously felt his way along the rock for some yards. He
was still ascending, but the ground was rough and piled with small
stones, which had crumbled off from the main wall and lay in heaps
beneath it. He knew enough about Scottish mountains to expect to find
an opening in the wall large enough to enable him to creep into some
kind of shelter; he was not disappointed, for soon he came upon a
crevice--not deep enough to be called a cave, but affording some
temporary relief from the storm, which had by this time assumed a
furious aspect.