Mr and Mrs Campbell had no time to raise any objection if they were inclined, for Emma was out of the door in a moment, with John at her heels. But Emma quite forgot that she had no snow-shoes, and before she had gone half the distance, she found herself as much fatigued as if she had walked miles, and she sank deeper and deeper in the snow every minute that she advanced. At last they arrived, and found the party. Alfred was lying insensible on the snow, and the others making a litter of branches that they might carry him to the house.
A little brandy poured down his throat brought Alfred to his senses; and as he opened his eyes he perceived Emma hanging over him.
“Dear Emma, how kind of you!” said he, attempting to rise.
“Do not move, Alfred; they will soon have the litter ready, and then you will be carried to the house. It is not far off.”
“I am strong again now, Emma,” replied Alfred. “But you must not remain here in the cold. See, the snow is falling again.”
“I must remain now till they are ready to carry you, Alfred, for I dare not go back by myself.”
By this time the litter was prepared, and Alfred placed on it. Malachi, Henry, Martin, and John took it up.
“Where is Percival?” said Emma.
“He’s behind a little way,” replied John. “The snow-shoes hurt him, and he could not walk so fast. He will be here in a minute.”
They carried Alfred to the house, where Mr and Mrs Campbell and Mary were waiting at the door in great anxiety; poor Emma was quite knocked up by the time that they arrived, and went into her own room.