Next day the storm was even worse. It could not be seen through the windows, for the snow swished so thickly against them that the glass was like white glass. All around the house the wind was howling. When Pa started to the stable, snow whirled thick onto the lean-to, and the outdoors was a whiteness. He took down a coil of rope from the nail in the lean-to. "I'm afraid to try it without something to guide me back," he said. "With this rope tied to the far end of the clothes-line I ought to reach the stable."

They waited, frightened, till Pa came back. The wind had taken almost all the milk out of the pail, and Pa had to thaw by the stove before he could talk. He had felt his way along the clothes-line fastened to the lean-to, till he came to the clothes-line post. Then he tied an end of his rope to the post and went on, unwinding the rope from his arm as he went.
He could not see anything but the whirling snow. Suddenly something hit him, and it was the stable wall. He felt along it till he came to the door, there he fastened the end of the rope.

All day the storm lasted. The windows were white and the wind stopped howling and screaming. It was pleasant in the warm house. Laura and Mary did their lessons, then Pa played the fiddle while Ma rocked and knitted, and bean soup simmered on the stove.

All night the storm lasted, and all the next day. Firelight danced out of the stove's draught, and Pa told stories and played the fiddle.

Next morning the wind was only whizzing, and the sun shone.
-from On the Banks of Plum Creek

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