"I falled in," said he. "I—I stumbled."
In that wind and frost it was death. The lad was doomed. And it was but a matter of minutes.
"Is you—is you wet through, Toby?" Jonathan asked, blankly.
"I is, sir."
Jonathan drew off a mitt and felt of the lad's clothes from his calves to his waist.
"Wet through!" said he. "Oh, dear me!"
"I'm soppin' t' the skin."
"Jus' drippin' wet!"
"I'm near froze," Toby complained. And he chilled. And his teeth clicked. "I wisht I had a shift o' clothes," said he.