Evidently the wind led this snow a lively dance, so irregular is its distribution now these huge drifts accumulating right here, while parts of the road ahead were swept bare and clean. The photographer who went over this route before us was caught in the storm when the air was so thick with flying flakes that he could not see as far ahead as that steep slope opposite us now. The cold was intense, and the wind so searching that the post-boy advised a halt and a rest in a small hut only a few rods from here around that turn at the right. A fire was soon blazing on an open hearth in that hut, and, after getting well warmed, the travelers felt better courage for facing the rest of the storm.
The men we see here now are farmers who “work out” their share of the public road tax, paying in labor instead of cash-a common custom in many parts of the country.
A part of the way through this gigantic snowdrift the men did not cut out the whole depth of snow, but merely cut through it. Let us go down inside the hollow through which that stolkjaerre has to pass.