Guest the One-Eyed #227345

He had come from the trading station, and was on his way home to his own hut in the mountains; the store-keeper had refused to grant him further credit, and in consequence, he had chosen to return by this lonely track across the hills, where he was sure of meeting no one on his way. It was hard to come home at Christmas-time with empty hands to empty pots and hungry mouths. His only comfort was the snow. It fell so thickly as to shut out all around, and seemed to numb even the poor peasant 's despair within the dismal prison of his mind. Now and again he heard a sound — the whir and cackle of ptarmigan flying overhead. Suddenly a gust of wind sent the snow flying over the ground. Another — and then gust followed gust, growing at last to a veritable hurricane, that swept the very snow clouds from the sky. And as if by magic, a vast plain of snow lay open to his eyes.