The snow was falling faster than ever, the cold was increasing, a gale was blowing, and, under the circumstances, of course there was not a glimmer of light in the sky.

My course was directly across the prairie, and in the event of my tracks being obliterated by the snow--as was almost certain to be the case--it was almost impossible for me to prevent myself from going astray.
My hope lay in Jack's promise that he would keep a bright light burning in the upper story to guide me on my course.

On a clear night this light was visible from the village, but somehow or other I failed to take into account the state of the weather.

The air was full of eddying flakes, which would render the headlight of a locomotive invisible a hundred yards distant.

Strange that this important fact never occurred to me until I was fully a fourth of a mile from the village.