A young man in Dallas told me he was standing on the opposite side of the street in his shirt sleeves; a norther arrived; he struck diagonally for his home on a dead run; that home was less than two blocks off; he insisted that if he had been delayed on the way by so much as a fall he would have frozen to death; but, somehow or other, I think he exaggerated things.
But by the time Nick Ribsam had the fire going, he was shivering. He gathered his heavy blanket closely about him and sat down near the blaze, but was still cold. The ponies felt it. They shrunk against the rocks and wherever they could find any shelter, and looked dismal and wretched. No blankets had been provided for them, but the luggage of the entire party was at command and Nick’s sympathy led him to appropriate the articles without a moment’s hesitation. It was a kind act and did much for the comfort of the dumb beasts.
What about Strubell and Lattin? They must suffer, but they were acclimated and would find some means of warding off the full effort of the cutting winds, without the help of extra clothing.
But poor Herbert! Nick fairly gasped as he thought of him. He was in his ordinary costume, and of course had not started a fire. He would not be likely to do so, since he was on his way to join Nick and would depend on him for everything of that sort.
“Heaven save him,” prayed Nick, “but if he doesn’t arrive soon he must perish. Hurry, Herbert!” he called at the top of his voice.
In his anxiety, Nick started down the path with the extra blanket flung over his arm, while he was so swathed in his own that he resembled an Indian chief, striding along the trail.
Night had fully come, and the sky, which had been quite clear during most of the day, was overcast, so that he could see but a short distance in any direction. Still he hurried on, confident every minute that the forms of Herbert and Jill would loom to view in the darkness.
But rod after rod was passed, and they did not appear. Suddenly Nick stooped down and placed his ear against the earth.
“I hear his pony’s hoofs!” he exclaimed, raising his head and peering forward, “but why is he so long on the way?”
Applying his ear again, the startling fact was evident: the sound of the horse’s hoofs was fainter than before. The animal was receding instead of approaching.