The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1909-05-12

IN THE CLUTCH OF A BLIZZARD
BY ERNEST McGAFFEY.



The snow had fallen softly and
steadily for days. The strawshed was
a Chinese pagoda, the haystacks re-
sembled Swiss cottages, and the sta
BILE, with snow packed deep about it
and a heavy mantle on the sloping
roof, could hardly be distinguished
from a huge drift. Every morning
the prairie chickens perched on avail
able corners of the stacks and out
buildings, and in the hedges the quail
and rabbits sheltered themselves as
best they could from the wintry
blasts.
John looked on the landscape with
keen interest. Toward distant Tar
kio the timberline doomed black as
night. To the northwest rose Satter-
lees grove, a dark speck against the
sky, and for the rest there was only a
wonderful whiteness. Still the snow
fell, and higher and still higher rose
the drifts. They wound about the
slender trunks of the young walnut
trees like enveloping wraiths of foam,
and among the tall cottonwoods to
the south they broke in misty pillows,
urged onward by the wind.
1t was hard work now feeding the
stock and poultry, chopping and
bringing in wood and looking after
things generally on the farm. Satur-
day night the wind freShened about
~ o'clock, and John felt shivery un-
der the old fashioned comforters.
In the morning he found his uncle
and Mart Barr talking in whispers by
the kitchen stove. He heard Barr
say.
II didn't much more than get back,
and if this keeps up we're in for it,"
He started to go outdoors, but his
uncle's sharp "Wait a while!" kept
him from leaving the room. He tried
to look out of the windows, but could
see nothing but a whirl of fakes.
1t began to be bitterly cold. Back
of the stove was a pile of wood, which
rapidly found its way into the fire,
and it was evident that a new supply
must be obtained if they wished to
keep alive. Johns grandmother had
already been warned to stay in bed,
and with a lighted lantern at her feet
she was buried under blankets. and
was quite comfortable.
"Step out on the stoop, john" said
Uncle Tom. "See what you think of
a blizzard. Hold on to my hand" he
added, as the boy started for the
door.
John took his uncle's hand and
crossed the threshold. He found
himself in a binding maze of furious
SHOWS. He held his disengaged hand
up before him, and could not see it
for the revolving drifts; he was
stung and cut by fine icy needles,
which filled and even choked the air,
and he instinctively felt for the door
and got into the house again, gasping
for breath.
The first thing he said on recover
ing his breath was, "What'll become
of the buckskin?"
His uncle looked grave. "The
pony will have to take his chances
with the mules. Mart fed 'em all last
night, and he tried to get to the sta
BILE this morning, but he barely got
back. We've got to wait till this
storm clears, if she blows a week"
The tears came into Johns eyes as
he thought of the pony, but he knew
the blizzard must be a serious mat
ter when Mart Barr or his uncle could
not get to the stable.
The: sat down to a good breakfast,
and the hot coffee heartened John up,
and he began to feel the novelty of
the adventure. He took his grand
mother her mornings meal, and re-
turned to the room below.
The house was a small story-and-
a-half frame, with no sheltering trees
or outbuildings near at hand. Up
stairs were the bedrooms, three in
number, and down stairs the single
large room served as library, sitting
room, dining room and kitchen. 1t
was warmed by q squat, good sized
kitchen stove.
Pretty soon Uncle Tom rose, tied a
clohtesline round his waist, and went
out into the swirl. Mart Barr held
the other end of the rope, and in a
few seconds Uncle Tom returned with
a stick of wood from the woodpile.
This he sawed into stove lengths with
a hand saw.
The wood was dried in the over
and piled into the stove and eaten up
like finder. Then Mart put on the
life line and made a dash for more
wood. After this grist had been de-
vsured by the kitchen stove, John
begged and insisted on being allowed
to go for a stick. The woodpile lay
south of the house, hardly fifty feet
away, and you could rot miss it, al
though you could not see it. After