The wind in whistling swirls drove the snow and sleet sharply against our faces.

Before us flowed the stream of black, rapid water, carrying down thin, jagged blocks of ice, twisting and grinding in the whirls and eddies.

For a long time my horse refused to take the plunge down the steep bank, snorted and braced himself.

With all my strength I lashed him with my whip across his neck until, with a pitiful groan, he threw himself into the cold stream.

We both went all the way under and I hardly kept my seat in the saddle.