SNOW-BLIND

BY

KATHARINE NEWLIN BURT

AUTHOR OF THE BRANDING IRON, Etc.




CHAPTER I


Under a noon sun the vast, flat country, buried deep in snow, lay
like a paper hoop rimmed by the dark primeval forest; its surface
shone with an unbearable brightness as of sun-struck glass, every
crystal gleaming and quivering with intense cold light. To the north
a single blunt, low mountain-head broke the evenness of the horizon
line.

Hugh Garth seemed to leap through paper like a tiny active clown as
he dropped down into the small space shoveled clear in front of his
hidden cabin door. The roof was weighted with drift, so that a curling
mass like the edge of a wind-crowded wave about to break hung low
over the eaves. Long icicles as thick as a man's arm stretched from
roof to ground in a row of twisted columns. Under this overhanging
cornice of snow near the door there was a sudden icy purple darkness.

As Hugh plunged down into it, his face lost a certain rapt brightness