Lucas turned around, went in the direction of the crooked tail sticking up from the snow, and pulling him out, contemptuously took him under his arm.
"If you was my dog, you'd get a bullet to eat. Howsomever, you ain't, an' I guess we'll hev to keep you for the leetle gal. Git on thar, sons."
Two hours later, 'Tilda Jane opened her eyes on a new world. Where had her adventures brought her this time? Had she died and gone to heaven? No, this must be earth, for she had just heard a string of very bad words uttered by some one near her. But she could not think about anything. A feeling of delicious languor overpowered her, and slowly opening and shutting her eyes, she little by little allowed her surroundings to impress themselves upon her.
She was very warm and comfortable; she was sitting on the floor, propped against the wall by means of an overturned chair and blankets; a fire in an open fireplace blazed beside her; Gippie was making his toilet before this fire, and she was very happy.
"Here, sup this," some one said, and languidly lifting her eyelids, she saw a big red-haired man bending over her.
He was holding a cup to her lips—coffee sweetened with molasses. Just what they used to have at the asylum, and with a faint smile, and a feeble "Thank you, sir," she slowly swallowed it.
"I was scared to give you any before," he said, gruffly; "thought you might choke. Here, gimme some grub, sons."
'Tilda Jane felt a morsel of something put in her mouth. It was followed by another morsel of something hot and savoury, and speedily she felt new life in her veins. She could sit up now, and look about her.
"Guess you can feed yourself," said the man, going back to the table. "Fall to now—you most got to the end of your tether."
'Tilda Jane took the two-pronged fork he put in her hand, and began to eat with slow avidity, not disregarding the requests for titbits from her dog, who occasionally paused for that purpose in his endeavours to lick himself dry.