The poor old horse,
utterly exhausted by this last effort, slipped and fell, and without
making any attempt to rise lay panting on the ground. Our unhappy
travellers found themselves in a sad predicament indeed--wet, cold,
tired and hungry, all in the superlative degree--blinded by the driving
snow, and lost, without any means of getting on save their own powers of
locomotion, in the midst of a great desert--for the white covering which
now lay upon everything had obliterated almost all traces of the road;
they did not know which way to turn, or what to do. For the moment
they all took refuge in the chariot, until the greatest violence of the
tempest should be over, huddled close together for warmth, and striving
not to lose heart entirely. Presently the wind quieted down all of a
sudden, as if it had expended its fury and wanted to rest; but the snow
continued to fall industriously, though noiselessly, and as far as the
eye could reach through the gathering darkness the surface of the earth
was white, as if it had been wrapped in a winding sheet.
"What in the world has become of Matamore?" cried Blazius suddenly; "has
the wind carried him off to the moon I wonder?"
"Yes; where can he be?" said the tyrant, in an anxious tone; "I can't
see him anywhere--I thought he was among us; perhaps he is lying asleep
among the stage properties at the back of the chariot; I have known him
curl himself down there for a nap before now.
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