"Hitch him somewhere, Daddy, and throw the buffalo over him—the bottle is under the buffalo, you'll find it and bring it."
"No I won't bring it nuther," muttered Daddy to himself."
"I guess there's something the matter with Miss DeWolf's arm, she couldn't use it when she tried to get up," said a voice close behind Edward.
He turned and saw that the suggestion had come from Fanny Green, who lay a short distance off, cosily wrapped in the form of a little black bundle.
"Are you hurt, Fanny?" he said.
"O no, I'm not hurt a bit," she answered brightly. "I prayed that I might be saved, and I was saved."
"I wish you would pray we might get safely up this steep place into the road," said Edward.
"Miss DeWolf is very little, replied Fanny hopefully, "I guess you can carry her up. If my cloak was off, I think I could walk by myself."
Edward undid her cloak and stood her upon her feet. He then raised Little Wolf in his arms, and staggered a few feet in the snow, and laid her down again, almost discouraged. But as he could devise no other plan to rescue her from her unpleasant situation, he redoubled his efforts. He occasionally stumbled against rocks, and fell into drifts, but always so as to shield his burden from harm.
Daddy was stubborn in witholding the bottle, and Little Wolf at length awoke to consciousness without it. Awoke to feel herself pressed close to Edward's throbbing breast, to listen to endearing words, that warmed into new life and vigor the hope in which she had indulged. The hope, that possibly, through her influence, he might be persuaded to give up the only habit which marred his otherwise unblemished, character.