“It were just beginnin’ t’ spit,” broke in Andy, “as I goes in th’ woods.”
“You must have turned into th’ woods t’ th’ westward of where I comes out, and that’s why I didn’t see you,” suggested David.
“When I gets t’ our trail I sees your footin’ comin’ this way. Th’ snow wasn’t enough yet t’ cover un, so I could tell ’twas fresh footin’. I says t’ myself, ‘Andy’s got hungry and tired waitin’ for me, and he’s gone back t’ th’ tilt. He’s tended th’ traps t’ th’ east’ard, and I’ll take a short cut.”
“I didn’t hurry, and before I gets out of th’ mesh snow was comin’ thick and th’ wind was rising, and it was gettin’ pretty nasty on th’ mesh.
“When I gets t’ th’ tilt and finds you’re not here I’m thinkin’ you’ve just been a bit slow, and that you’ll be along soon.
“So I puts a fire on and boils th’ kettle. When th’ kettle boils and you don’t come, I puts on my ’diky and goes out t’ th’ mesh t’ look. I never saw th’ wind rise th’ way she had in that little while. It took me off my feet and sent me flat when I tries t’ face un. Then I knows I can’t go on th’ mesh t’ look for you, and I knows you can’t stay there and live.
“I was scared! I tries four or five times t’ get out t’ look for you, Andy, but I has t’ give un up.”
“I’m thinkin’ you couldn’t go far in that drift!” exclaimed Andy. “I tried un too, and she knocked me flat.”
“Well,” concluded David, “that was all I could do, except t’ pray th’ Lard t’ spare your life, Andy. I had t’ ’bide here, and ’twas th’ hardest night I ever spent, waitin’ here alone for day t’ come so’s I could look for you, and sore afraid for you, Andy. ’Twas your grit, b’y, that pulled you through.”