The
powdered ice rose from the ground in waves which buffeted one another
and fell in spray, only to rise again in ceaseless, tumultuous action.
There was no sky and no earth. Everything slid, sifted, drifted, or
madly swirled.
The three prisoners fell at last into silence. They sat in the dim,
yellow-gray dusk and stared gloomily at the stove, growing each moment
more repellent to one another. They met one another's eyes at intervals
with surprise and horror. The world without seemed utterly lost. Wailing
voices sobbed in the pipe and at the windows. Sudden agonized shrieks
came out of the blur of sound. The hours drew out to enormous length,
though the day was short. The windows were furred deep with frost. At
four o'clock it was dark, and, as he placed the lamp on the table,
Bailey said,
"Well, Jim, we're in for another night of it."
Rivers leaped up as if he had been struck.
"Yes, curse it. It looks as if it would never let up again." He raged up
and down the room with the spirit of blasphemy burning in his eyes.
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