Another driver lost control. The screams of the horses were more terrible
to hear than the cries of the men and women. Nothing seemed to check the
wolves. It was hard to tell what was happening in the rear; the people who
were falling behind shrieked as piteously as those who were already lost.
The little bride hid her face on the groom's shoulder and sobbed. Pavel
sat still and watched his horses. The road was clear and white, and the
groom's three blacks went like the wind. It was only necessary to be calm
and to guide them carefully.
At length, as they breasted a long hill, Peter rose cautiously and looked
back. `There are only three sledges left,' he whispered.
`And the wolves?' Pavel asked.
`Enough! Enough for all of us.'
Pavel reached the brow of the hill, but only two sledges followed him down
the other side. In that moment on the hilltop, they saw behind them a
whirling black group on the snow. Presently the groom screamed. He saw
his father's sledge overturned, with his mother and sisters. He sprang up
as if he meant to jump, but the girl shrieked and held him back. It was
even then too late. The black ground-shadows were already crowding over
the heap in the road, and one horse ran out across the fields, his harness
hanging to him, wolves at his heels.
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