![]() ![]() I-s the-ere mu-mu-ch f-f-urther t-oo g-oo? asked Hans, sticking his head out of the window. With each crack of the coachman's whip the cold grew bolder, pressing against every outline. And yet, thought Hans, as often happens at the end of an exhausting day, the small city seemed to be moving in step with them, and getting no nearer. An opaque moon was rolling above the horizon.įor some time now Wandernburg had been visible in the distance, to the south. Their cheeks puffing, the horses blew clouds from their nostrils. The axles twisted in every pothole, and seemed about to snap. The coach lamps flickered as the horses sped along the road. I-I'm f-fine, th-ank yo-uu, replied Hans, teeth chattering. ![]() A-ARE YO-UU C-COLD? THE coachman shouted, his voice fragmented by the jolting of the coach. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |