Graham looked back, but the snowstorm had hidden the others.
"Come on!" said his guide.

Running now, they drew near a little windmill spinning high in the air.

"Stoop," said Graham's guide, and they avoided an endless band running roaring up to the shaft of the vane.

"This way!" and they were ankle deep in a gutter full of drifted thawing snow, between two low walls of metal that presently rose waist high.

"I will go first," said the guide.