the selfsame uniform white layers of snow and that the road existed only in my imagination—than I no longer saw the sledge.
"Driver! Alec!" I cried, but my voice!—well I felt that the wind snatched it right out of my mouth and carried it in the twinkling of an eye away from me. I have a very distinct recollection of the loud, penetrating, and even desperate voice with which I once more yelled: "Driver!" when he was only two good paces distant from me. His black figure, whip in hand, and with his large hat perched on one side, suddenly grew up in front of me. He led me to the sledge.
"Still warm, thank goodness!" said he, "but it's bad if the frost does catch you, my little master!" said he.
"Let the horses go; we must go back," said I, taking my seat on the sledge. "O suppose you can guide them, driver?"
"I must guide them."
He threw aside the reins, struck the saddle of the thill horse thrice with his whip and again we went on somewhither for a bit. We went along for about half an hour. Suddenly we again heard in front of us the, to me, familiar little hunting-bell and two more besides; but this time they were coming towards us. It was the same three troikas returning to the post-station after delivering the mails, with the fresh horses fastened on behind. The courier's troika, with its three powerful horses with the hunting bells came rapidly forward. A single driver sat on the box, shouting lustily. Behind, in the middle of the empty
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