CHAPTER XXXIII.
I do not know how long I was in a state of forgetfulness, but it seemed an age. A vague consciousness grew upon me by degrees, and then came a gathering anguish of pain in my limbs and through all my body. I shuddered. The thought flitted through my brain, “this is death—this is the hereafter.”
Then came a white upheaval at my side, and a voice said, with bitterness:
“Will some gentleman be so good as to kick me behind?”
It was Ballou—at least it was a towzled snow image in a sitting posture, with Ballou’s voice.
I rose up, and there in the gray dawn, not fifteen steps from us, were the frame buildings of a stage station, and under a shed stood our still saddled and bridled horses!
An arched snow-drift broke up, now, and Ollendorff emerged from it, and the three of us
