"When we get to the pike," said Uncle Beamish, "you can't
miss it, for this road doesn't cross it. All you've got to do is
to turn to the left, and in ten minutes you will see the lights
in my sister's house. And I'll tell you, doctor, if you would
like to stop there for the night, she'd be mighty glad to have
you."

"Much obliged," replied I, "but I shall go on. It's not late
yet, and I can reach the Collingwoods' in good time."

We now drove on in silence, our horse actually arching his
neck as he thumped through the snow. Drifts had begun to form
across the road, but through these he bravely plunged.

"Stayin' power is what we want, doctor!" exclaimed Uncle
Beamish. "Where would your fast trotter be in drifts like these,
I'd like to know? We got the right horse when we got this one,
but I wish we had been goin' this fast all the time."

It grew darker and darker, but at last we saw, not far in
front of us, a light.

"That beats me," said Uncle Beamish. "I don't remember no
other house so near the road. It can't be we ain't passed
Crocker's yit! If we ain't got no further than that, I'm in
favor of stoppin'. I'm not afraid of a snow-storm, but I ain't a
fool nuther, and if we haven't got further than Crocker's it will
be foolhardy to try to push on through the dark and these big
drifts, which will be gettin' bigger."