With mingled exclamations of gladness and dismay the servants raised their mistress.
“Now, boys, where are they?” Mr Humphreys asked.
The lads gave a rapid narrative of what had happened.
“Under the snow all this time!” the farmer exclaimed; “they must be, as you say, in a hut. Now, will one of you stay and show me the way back, and the others go on to Mr Jackson’s and other places, and bring a strong party of men with shovels on after us?”
The lad who had spoken with the prisoners remained to act as guide, the others hurried off.
“Come with me, my boy, into the larder. There, help yourself; you must be hungry and tired, and you have got to do it over again.”
Mr Humphreys then ran into the yard, and bade the four labourers provide themselves with shovels and prepare to accompany him at once.
He then went back into the parlour. His wife was just opening her eyes; for a time she looked confused and bewildered, then suddenly she sat up and gazed beseechingly at her husband—memory had come back to her.
“Yes, wife, thanks be to God, it is true—the boys are alive; I am just going with these men to dig them out. They are snowed up in a hut. Now, Jane, get a large basket, and put in it lots of bread, and bacon—the men who are working will want something; fill the largest stone jar with beer; put in a bottle of brandy and a bottle of milk, and set to and get some soup ready; bring three small mattresses downstairs and a lot of blankets.”
Five minutes later the search-party started, Mr Humphreys and the guide leading the way; the men followed, one carrying five shovels; another, the basket and jar; the other two, three hurdles on which were placed the mattresses and blankets.