"Your voice is close to me," I answered.
"I've got a hold of one of the mare's ears," he said next. "I won't
try to get her out until I get you off her."
I put out my hand, and felt along the mare's neck. What a joy it was
to catch my father's hand through the darkness and the snow! He
grasped mine and drew me towards him, then got me by the arm and began
dragging me through the snow. The mare began plunging again, and by
her struggles rather assisted my father. In a few moments he had me in
his arms.
"Thank God!" he said, as he set me down against the peat-stack. "Stand
there. A little farther. Keep well off for fear she hurt you. She must
fight her way out now."
He went back to the mare, and went on clearing away the snow. Then I
could hear him patting and encouraging her. Next I heard a great
blowing and scrambling, and at last a snort and the thunder of hoofs.
"Woa! woa! Gently! gently!--She's off!" cried my father.
Her mother gave one snort, and away she went, thundering after
her. But their sounds were soon quenched in the snow.
"There's a business!" said my father. "I'm afraid the poor things will
only go farther to fare the worse. We are as well without them,
however; and if they should find their way home, so much the better
for us. They might have kept us a little warmer though. We must fight
the cold as we best can for the rest of the night, for it would only
be folly to leave the spot before it is light enough to see where we
are going.
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