Beadle's Dime Novels No. 96: Little Moccasin — page 68: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

70 LIVTLE MOCCASIN. which way they leaned, that he might be sure of a due north course, he set off again with a braver step and a sturdier reso- lution, resolved to justify the confidence of Gage, though half blinded by the driving snow-dust, which came down upon him in whirls and eddies, with long intervals of stillness, that would have been apalling to the inexperienced. On—on—ceaselessly on! and yet, there were times when Fletcher seemed to be making no headway, when all the land- marks he depended. upon were lost; and when he felt, as he plowed heavily along, and plunged through the fast-gathering drifts, to a dull, melancholy, muffled roar, coming and going like the sounds we hear at dead of night from the distant sea- shore, very much as if he was going to his 6wn funeral. And why not? Others had been lost in the woods—others had been buried in the great northern snow-drifts, only to be_ thawed out in the spring; and why, notwithstanding all bis hardihood, courage and experience, why might not he be mis- led by the dhanged appearances about his way, and wander off, and be lost? Tle was not a man to be easily frightened, but he had never seen ‘any thing like this—and it seemed to grow worse and worse every mile. He was almost ready to drop with weariness and vexation; but to stop was death, unless he could find shelter somewhere—some hollow tree, or some cleft in the ledges; but beclouded as he was, and almost bewil- dered by the strangeness of the landscape, he was afraid to turn to the right or left, and only did so now and then to-exam-’ ine the trees and.assure himself that he had not wandered from the true course. Though it was only the middle of the afternoon by his watch, the snow had so darkened and filled the air that, oftentimes, he could not see a dozen yards before him; and the large, solitary trees, which had been spared along the outskirts of the wilderness, by the woodman or the fire, loomed up like giant phantasmagoria through the solemn, bewildering twilight. Still he persévered—turning neither to the right. nor left, until he found himself, all at once, and most unexpectedly, upon the side of a deep gorge, running through the burnt dis- trict and corresponding with the description of the ravine. It was incumbered with huge masses of rock and uptorn charred stumps, and large trees ground up and splintered, and heaps CoOnnicloookxs.cCom