But
the next moment it rang through the frosty air.
"It's Turkey! That's Turkey, father!" I cried. "I know his shout. He
makes it go farther than anybody else.--Turkey! Turkey!" I shrieked,
almost weeping with delight.
Again Turkey's cry rang through the darkness, and the light drew
wavering nearer.
"Mind how you step, Turkey," cried my father. "There's a hole you may
tumble into."
"It wouldn't hurt him much in the snow," I said.
"Perhaps not, but he would probably lose his light, and that we can
hardly afford."
"Shout again," cried Turkey. "I can't make out where you are."
My father shouted.
"Am I coming nearer to you now?"
"I can hardly say. I cannot see well. Are you going along the road?"
"Yes. Can't you come to me?"
"Not yet. We can't get out. We're upon your right hand, in a
peat-stack."
"Oh! I know the peat-stack. I'll be with you in a moment."
He did not however find it so easily as he had expected, the peats
being covered with snow. My father gave up trying to free himself and
took to laughing instead at the ridiculous situation in which we were
about to be discovered. He kept directing Turkey, however, who at
length after some disappearances which made us very anxious about the
lantern, caught sight of the stack, and walked straight towards it.
Now first we saw that he was not alone, but accompanied by the silent
Andrew.
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