Thickly, thicker, thicker--faster, faster--in
great soft flakes it fell; and, behold! in an instant, all Caen was
blotted out. Trees vanished, landmarks disappeared, and the children
could see nothing before them or behind them but this white wall,
which seemed to press them in and hem them round.
CHAPTER VI.
IN THE SNOW.
So sudden was the snowstorm when it came, so complete the blinding
sense of the loss of all external objects, that the children stood
stunned, not fearing, because they utterly failed to realize.
Maurice, it is true, hid his pretty head in Joe's breast, and Cecile
clung a little tighter to her young companion. Toby, however, again
seemed the only creature who had any wits about him. Now it would be
impossible to get back to Caen. There was, as far as the little party
of pilgrims were concerned, no Caen to return to, and yet they must
not stand there, for either the violence of the storm would throw
them on their faces, or the intense cold would freeze them to death.
Onward must still be their motto. But where? These, perhaps, were
Toby's thoughts, for certainly no one else thought at all. He set his
keen wits to work. Suddenly he remembered something. The moment the
memory came to him, he was an alert and active dog; in fact, he was
once more in the post he loved. He was the leader of the expedition.
Again he seized Cecile's thin and ragged frock; again he pulled her
violently.
"No, no, Toby," she said in a muffled and sad tone; "there's no use
now, dear Toby.
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