LOST IN A BLIZZARD.
If I were given my choice between a visit from a cyclone or a blizzard,I would unhesitatingly choose the former. True, there is no resistingits terrific power, and a man caught in its embrace is as helpless as achild when seized by a Bengal tiger; but there is a chance of escape,and the whole thing is over in a few minutes. You may be lifted intothe air and dropped with only a few broken bones, or, by plunging intoa "cyclone pit," the fury of the sky may glide harmlessly over yourhead; but in the case of a blizzard, however, let me tell you the onewoeful experience of my life.
The snow fell steadily for two days and nights, and looking out from myhome in western Kansas I saw that it lay fully three feet on a level.By a strange providence my wife, who had been my brave and faithfulhelper for several years, was away on a visit to her friends in Topeka,and my only companion was my servant Jack, a middle-aged African, whoin his youth was a slave in Kentucky.
Things had not gone well with us of late. The grasshoppers and droughtplayed the mischief with out crops, and it was a question with me formonths whether the wisest course to take was not to throw up my hands,let everything go to the bow-wows and, in the dry-goods firm, that Iknew was returning to St. Louis, resume my situation still open for me.A man hates to confess himself beaten, and I decided to remain where Iwas one more year. Then, if there was no improvement, I would turn myback on Kansas forever.
"Master Thomas," said Jack, as the dismal December afternoon drew to aclose, "thar isn't a pound ob flour in de house. Shall I go to devillage and get some?"
"No; I will go myself."
It was the sudden realization of the unutterable loneliness I wouldfeel without any companion that led me to this rash declaration. Thetown was only a mile distant, but it would require hours to make thejourney there and back, and I could not bear the thought of beingwithout the society of any one for that time. I had read everything inthe house; the single horse and cow I owned had been looked after, andthere was absolutely nothing to do but to sit down before the scantfire, listen to the sifting of the snow against the window panes, andgive way to gloomy reverie.
Anything was preferable to this, and it was with a feeling akin torelief that I added:
"I might do so had I not noticed this afternoon that he had gone lame."
"Better let de flour go, den, for de snow am too deep and de storm toheavy for you to tramp all de way to town and back again."
"No; while I haven't much fear of our starving, yet, if the snow-fallcontinues, we shall be in a bad way. I can carry twenty-five poundswithout trouble, and will be back in a few hours; then the storm mayrage as hard as it pleases, for all we care."
The preparations were quickly made, and, to shorten my story, I may saythat, after a laborious tramp, I reached the village without mishap,bought my quarter of a hundred of flour, slung it over my shoulder, andstarted on my return.
By this time I had made several disquieting discoveries. The snow wasfalling faster than ever, the cold was increasing, a gale was blowing,and, under the circumstances, of course there was not a glimmer oflight in the sky. My course was directly across the prairie, and inthe event of my tracks being obliterated by the snow--as was almostcertain to be the case--it was almost impossible for me to preventmyself from going astray.
My hope lay in Jack's promise that he would keep a bright light burningin the upper story to guide me on my course. On a clear night thislight was visible from the village, but somehow or other I failed totake into account the state of the weather. The air was full ofeddying flakes, which would render the headlight of a locomotiveinvisible a hundred yards distant. Strange that this important factnever occurred to me until I was fully a fourth of a mile from thevillage. Then, after looking in vain for the beacon light, the dangerof my situation struck me, and I halted.
"I am certain to go wrong," I said to myself.
"It is out of my power to follow a direct course without something toserve as a compass. I will go back to the village and wait tillmorning."
Wheeling about in my tracks, I resumed my wearisome tramp through theheavy snow, and kept it up until I was certain I had travelled fully afourth of a mile. Then when I paused a moment and gazed ahead andaround, I was confronted by blank darkness on every hand. What a proofof a man's tendency to go wrong, that in aiming at a village of fiftydwellings, and only a fourth of a mile away, I had missed it altogether!
This discovery gave me my first thrill of real alarm. I shouted, butmy voice fell dead in the snowy air. The gale was blowing morefuriously than ever, and the cold was so intense that it penetrated mythick clothing and caused my teeth to rattle together!
"You can be of no use to me," I exclaimed, flinging away the small bagof flour. "The village can't be far off, and I will find it."
Determined to retain my self-possession, I made a careful calculationof the proper course to follow, and plunged into my work with morevigor than ever. I continually glanced up in quest of the flickeringlights, and listened, in the hope of hearing some sound that couldguide me, but nothing of the kind was seen or heard, and it was notlong before the terrible truth burst upon me that I was lost.
Aye, and lost in a blizzard! The wind had risen almost to a hurricane;the cold cut through the thickest clothing, and the snow struck myface like the prick of millions of needles. I shouted again, but,convinced that it was a useless waste of strength, I soon ceased.
It was certain death to remain motionless, and almost equally fatal topush on; but there _was_ a possibility that I might strike the rightdirection, and anything was preferable to remaining idle. And so, witha desperation akin to despair, I threw all the vigor at my command intomy benumbed limbs, and bent every possible energy to the life and deathtask before me.
The sleet drove against my cheeks with such spiteful and penetratingfierceness that I could make no use of my eyes, I could only bend myhead to the blast and labor through the snow, praying that Providencewould guide my footsteps in the right direction.
I was plodding forward in this heavy, aimless fashion when I noticedthat the violence of the gale was drifting the snow. Sometimes I wouldstrike a space of several yards where it did not reach to my ankles.Then I would suddenly lurch into a wall that reached to my shoulders.After wallowing through this, I might strike a shallow portion again,where, while walking quite briskly, a windrow of snow would be hurledagainst my breast and face with such fury as to force me backward andoff my feet.
Bracing myself, I waited until there was a sufficient lull in theblizzard for me to make some use of my eyes. I blinked and peeredtoward the different points of the compass, but without catching thefirst twinkle of light.
"I am lost--lost--" I moaned; "there is no help for me!"
An extraordinary collapse must have come over me, for my senses seemedto forsake me on the instant. I went down in the eddying, blindingsnow, and knew no more.
At the moment of giving way I was less than a hundred yards from theeasternmost house of the village. My despairing cry was heard, andhospitable hands carried me into the dwelling within a quarter of anhour after losing my consciousness. Intelligent and prompt treatmentprevented any serious consequences, but the remembrance of that brieftime exposed to the fury of the blizzard will remain with me to mydying day.
The Jungle Fugitives: A Tale of Life and Adventure in India Page 30
