“He is frightened, poor fellow, at some little obstruction in the road. I had better get out and remove it,” said Arthur, giving Cinthia the reins, and springing out into the snow.
Giving the trembling pony a reassuring pat and word, he passed him and went on to examine the road.
Cinthia heard him cry out in alarm and wonder as he stooped down.
“Oh, what is it?” she exclaimed, curiously.
“Cinthia, there is a human being lying here unconscious in the snow—a woman!”
“Oh, heavens!”
“What shall we do?” continued Arthur, distressfully.
“Oh, Arthur, we must take her into the sleigh with us and carry her to the station! Oh, how terrible to fall down unconscious in the snow on such a wild night!” cried Cinthia, beginning to sob with sympathy, the cold air turning the tears into pearls upon her cheeks.
Without more ado, Arthur dragged the inert form up out of the snow, and staggering under the heavy weight of a large, unconscious woman, managed to deposit his burden in the bottom of the sleigh, after which he got in himself, saying, as he took up the reins:
“I am sorry this happened, because it will draw upon us undesirable notoriety at the station; but it can not be helped now, and I must hasten on, for I have driven so slowly that we have not much time to spare.”