But I cried with gladness, as I
stooped down and patted her. My mind was sharing in my body's weakness,
and I could not reason, but I knew that help was at hand. A gray figure
came more and more distinctly out of the thick, close-pressing darkness.
It was Gregory wrapped in his maud.
"Oh, Gregory!" said I, and I fell upon his neck, unable to speak another
word. He never spoke much, and made me no answer for some little time.
Then he told me we must move, we must walk for the dear life--we must
find our road home, if possible; but we must move, or we should be frozen
to death.
"Don't you know the way home?" asked I.
"I thought I did when I set out, but I am doubtful now. The snow blinds
me, and I am feared that in moving about just now, I have lost the right
gait homewards."
He had his shepherd's staff with him, and by dint of plunging it before
us at every step we took--clinging close to each other, we went on safely
enough, as far as not falling down any of the steep rocks, but it was
slow, dreary work.
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