Gabriel obeyed the order to the letter. He saved neither the horses nor himself. At dinner time he was back again with the effervescent water. Abner Pickett was so pleased with the haste made, that he asked it as a special favor that Gabriel might go in to see Dannie.
“It’s Gabriel,” said Aunt Martha. “He brought you something from Mooreville, something to drink. Here it is in the glass. See how it sparkles!”
“And may I drink it from the glass?”
“Certainly.”
She raised his head gently from the pillow and held the tumbler to his lips. When he had swallowed the liquid he turned his grateful eyes on Gabriel.
“Thank you!” he said. “Thank you, very much. That—was so good—you were always—doing nice things for me—Gabriel.”
And Gabriel, not daring to trust himself to reply, turned and left the room. When he was able to control his voice, he said to Abner Pickett:—
“They tell me he thinks he’s in the drifts a-goin’ from the poor-house to Mooreville, an’ that the snow’s a-smotherin’ ’im. You tell ’im the road’s all clear now. Tell ’im I went by there a-flyin’. Tell ’im a baby could walk through them drifts now without any help. Maybe it’ll sort o’ relieve ’is mind on that p’int.”
The old man looked up at him grimly: “Gabriel, you’re a—God bless you, Gabriel! Get to your dinner.”