"Where are you, sir?" asked Turkey, throwing the light of the lantern
over the ruin.
"Buried in the peats," answered my father, laughing. "Come and get us
out."
Turkey strode up to the heap, and turning the light down into it said,
"I didn't know it had been raining peats, sir."
"The peats didn't fall quite so far as the snow, Turkey, or they would
have made a worse job of it," answered my father.
Meantime Andrew and Turkey were both busy; and in a few moments we
stood upon our feet, stiff with cold and cramped with confinement, but
merry enough at heart.
"What brought you out to look for us?" asked my father.
"I heard Missy whinnying at the stable-door," said Andrew. "When I saw
she was alone, I knew something had happened, and waked Turkey. We
only stopped to run to the manse for a drop of whisky to bring with
us, and set out at once."
"What o'clock is it now?" asked my father.
"About one o'clock," answered Andrew.
"One o'clock!" thought I. "What a time we should have had to wait!"
"Have you been long in finding us?"
"Only about an hour."
"Then the little mare must have had great trouble in getting home. You
say the other was not with her?"
"No, sir. She's not made her appearance."
"Then if we don't find her, she will be dead before morning. But what
shall we do with you, Ranald? Turkey had better go home with you
first.
Pages:
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254