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s right down by the river-bank．The sides of the valley，shining in the moonlight，towered up far above them on either hand．“Best keep down here as much as possible，”he said．“She’ll have to keep to the top，for you couldn’t bring a sledge down here．”
It would have been a pretty enough scene to look at it through a window from a comfortable armchair；and even as things were， Lucy enjoyed it at first．But as they went on walking and walking-and walking—and as the sack she was carrying felt heavier and heavier，she began to wonder how she was going to keep up at all. And she stopped looking at the dazzling brightness of the frozen river with all its waterfalls of ice and at the white masses of the tree-tops and the great glaring moon and the countless stars and could only watch the little short legs of Mr. Beaver going pad-pad-pad-pad through the snow in front of her as if they were never going to stop．Then the moon disappeared and the snow began to fall once more．And at last Lucy was so
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