THE SNOW STORM 
57 
“We’ll be buried,” he whispered to his 
mother. 
“It will be well if we are,” said his mother. 
“If not we may freeze.” 
“But I will smother,” he whispered back. 
“Oh, no, said his mother, “I’ll reach down 
now and then and make a little passage for the 
air to reach you. Do not be afraid. You will 
be snug as anything down there all covered 
with the downy flakes.” Nevertheless, she did 
wrinkle her brow, for in these terrible bliz¬ 
zards no one could tell how deep the snow 
would bury them, and it might easily be that 
the snow would go over her head. Then she 
knew that she must choose between leaving her 
child or dying with him. 
Deeper and deeper the snow piled, louder 
and louder the wind howled. But only 
Mrs. Penguin heard it; Mannie’s ears were 
buried deep in the snow, but still right down 
to his face came a little passage which his brave 
mother, shiver as she might, kept open all the 
