Then he was away in his sleep on some errand of mercy, and struggling through the storm.
"It's a coorse nicht, Jess, an' heavy traivellin'; can ye see afore ye, lass? for a'm clean confused wi' the snaw; bide a wee till a' find the diveesion o' the roads; it's aboot here back or forrit.
"Steady, lass, steady, dinna plunge; it's a drift we're in, but ye're no sinkin'; … up noo; … there ye are on the road again.
"Eh, it's deep the nicht, an' hard on us baith, but there's a puir wumman micht dee if we didna warstle through; … that's it; ye ken fine what a'm sayin'.
"We 'ill hae tae leave the road here, an' tak tae the muir. Sandie 'ill no can leave the wife alane tae meet us; … feel for yersel', lass, and keep oot o' the holes.
"Yon's the hoose black in the snaw. Sandie! man, ye frichtened us; a' didna see ye ahint the dyke; hoo's the wife?"
After a while he began again:
"Ye're fair dune, Jess, and so a' am masel'; we're baith gettin' auld, an' dinna tak sae weel wi' the nicht wark.
"We 'ill sune be hame noo; this is the black wood, and it's no lang aifter that; we're ready for oor beds, Jess; … ay, ye like a clap at a time; mony a mile we've gaed hegither.
"Yon's the licht in the kitchen window; nae wonder ye're nickering (neighing); … it's been a stiff journey; a'm tired, lass … a'm tired tae deith," and the voice died into silence.