I ought to be nearly weather-proof by this time; but, in spite of a warm
riding-cloak and a casing of chamois leather from neck to ankle, I felt
sometimes chilled to the marrow; my lips would hardly close round the
pipe-stem, and even while I smoked the breath froze on my moustache,
stiff and hard. My flask was full of rare country whisky, fiery hot from
the still; but it seemed at last to have lost all strength, and was
nearly tasteless. I would have given anything for a brisk trot or
rattling gallop to break the monotonous foot-pace, but the reasons
before stated forbade the idea: there was nothing for it, but to plod
steadily onwards. Walter himself suffered a good deal in hands and feet;
but the Alabama man, utterly unused to the lower extremes of
temperature, only found relief from his misery in an occasional
drowsiness that made him sway helplessly in his saddle. The last league
of our route lay through the White Grounds. The valley of the Potomac
widens here towards the north, and six thousand acres of forest stretch
away--unbroken, save by rare islets of clearings. There was no visible
track; but our guide struck boldly across the woodlands, taking bearings
by certain landmarks and the steady moon. It was not dark even here; but
low sweeping boughs and fallen trunks often hidden by snow, made the
traveling difficult and dangerous.
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