Then the
storm, which had been making ready all day, came down upon them in
earnest.
The bleak wind howled around the corners, the white flakes by millions
and millions came with it, and hurled themselves upon that house. In
fact, that poor little cabin alone on the wide prairie seemed to be the
object of their sport. They sifted through the cracks in the walls,
around the windows, and under the door, and made pretty little drifts
on the floor. They piled up against it outside, covered the steps, and
then the door, and then the windows, and then the roof, and at last
buried it completely out of sight under the soft, white mass.
And all the time the mother and her three children lay snugly covered
up in their beds fast asleep, and knew nothing about it.
The night passed away and morning came, but no light broke through the
windows of the cabin. Mrs. Barnes woke at the usual time, but finding
it still dark and perfectly quiet outside, she concluded that the storm
was over, and with a sigh of relief turned over to sleep again. About
eight o'clock, however, she could sleep no more, and became wide awake
enough to think the darkness strange. At that moment the clock struck,
and the truth flashed over her.
Being buried under snow is no uncommon thing on the wide prairies, and
since they had wood and cornmeal in plenty, she would not have been
much alarmed if her husband had been home.
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