It grew dark so that we had to camp for the night.

The wind rose high and carried in its grasp a great white sheet of snow that shut us off from the horizon on every side and buried our camp deep in its folds.

Our horses stood round like white ghosts, refusing to eat or to leave the circle round our fire.

The wind combed their manes and tails.

Through the niches in the mountains it roared and whistled.