Mrs. Parlin feared so too, and that her husband was needed to go for the doctor. It must be dreadful, she thought, for people to be sick in such a terrible storm. It had not occurred to her, as yet, to be alarmed about her child.
The storm was all this time increasing, till Mr. Parlin could see neither the road nor his horse, and the poor animal scarcely knew whether he was wading through clouds or snow-drifts.
“It certainly is not strange the children should lose their way,” thought Mr. Parlin. “I must have a care, or I shall lose mine, too.”
As his horse was only a hinderance, he took him back to the stable, and pursued his way on foot.
Now we will return to the little ones, and see what they were doing.
Dotty had said she was going to give up; still she struggled on, and Tate followed, crying out,—
“If we die you’ll say ’twas me did it; but who hit my nose?”