A female face, anxious and elderly, here appeared at the window.
“Thet's my little game,” said Bill, sotto voce.
“Is there any danger? where is my husband?” asked the woman impatiently.
“Ez to the danger, ma'am,—thar ain't any. Yer ez safe HERE ez ye'd be in a Sacramento steamer; ez to your husband, he allowed I was to come yer and fetch yer up to the hotel. That's his look-out!” With this cheering speech, Bill proceeded to make two or three ineffectual scoops into the dark interior, manifestly with the idea of scooping out the lady in question. In another instant he had caught her, lifted her gently but firmly in his arms, and was turning away.
“But my child!—my daughter! she's asleep!”—expostulated the woman; but Bill was already swiftly splashing through the darkness. Jeff, left to himself, hastily examined the coach: on the back seat a slight small figure, enveloped in a shawl, lay motionless. Jeff threw the bear-skin over it gently, lifted it on one arm, and gathering a few travelling bags and baskets with the other, prepared to follow his quickly disappearing leader. A few feet from the coach the water appeared to deepen, and the bear-skin to draggle. Jeff drew the figure up higher, in vain.
“Sis,” he said softly.
No reply.
“Sis,” shaking her gently.
There was a slight movement within the wrappings.
“Couldn't ye climb up on my shoulder, honey? that's a good child!”