"We haven't seen the mail-carrier either, and he's two hours late; but he must have had a heavy trail all the way from the settlement.

I expect he'll cut out our place and make straight for Grant's.

We'll have snow before long." There was an empty shack not far away where, by George's consent, the mail-carrier left letters when bad weather made it desirable to shorten his round.
Grierson nodded as he glanced about.

The stretch of desolate white prairie had contracted since he had last noticed it, the surrounding dimness was creeping nearer in, and the ranks of poplar trunks were losing their sharpness of form.

Now that the men had ceased chopping, they could hear the eerie moaning of the wind and the sharp patter of icy snow-dust among the withered brush.
"It will take him all his time to fetch Grant's; I wish Mr.West would come before it gets dark," Grierson said with a shiver, and fell to work again.
Several minutes passed.