In the midst of this operation, a peal of bells sounded; and around the corner of the house came Jim Burns, with a fresh team hitched to the "jumper". Burns, a tough westerner, had been barely affected by the storm, except for frozen cheeks and nose, which he had rubbed out down at the stable. His feet, clad in thick felt "duffels", had escaped freezing.
"Hey-o;" he said, unconcernedly; "gittin' thawed out all right? Mary, I got to go back for Jack and the Missis—the sleigh's stuck in a drift, about two mile back along the trail. We cut the ponies loose, an' they led us home, right up to the stable door. Jack, he was a-goin' to come along too, at first, and fetch the Missis on his back—him and me would have took turns carryin' her. But she wouldn't hear of it, so Jack he told us to go on ahead. Said the ponies would take us home, all right, and I could come back in the jumper when I got warmed up. But," Jim Burns could not help a bit of western swagger, "I'm all right—I don't need no warmin' up. Rustle me a couple more blankets, Mary. I'll finish rubbin' them feet out."
"Aa, you go on, Jeem Burns," Mary, interested in this tall, pleasant-faced man the storm had brought her, pushed Burns away; "You know you where yon blankets is. You get them yourself—see!"
"A-all right," the hired man, swinging his shoulders, stepped into the farmhouse living-room, gathered up a pair of heavy gray blankets from the rail bunk in a corner, brought the coal-oil can and refilled the lantern he was to take with him, and then lighted the lantern.
"I guess I can keep the trail all right, goin' out," he said, as he stepped outside, "the wind, she'll be behind me. Comin' home, the horses'll face it all right, they'll be that keen to get back into the stable again. Well, so-long, yous; keep a good fire on, Mary."
With this, Jim Burns tossed the blankets into the jumper, hopped in after them and, standing up in the vehicle as though it was a bob-sleigh, this conscious master of the northwest blizzard took off his dogskin cap, whirled it jovially around his head, and whooped to the horses. They broke into a trot, receding down the lee of the grove where the snow came tumbling over the tree-tops in vaporous clouds, like smoke from a huge smoke-stack; and in a trice the night had swallowed them.
"You come in now," said Mary, finally; "wait, I help you." And Sir William Ware felt an arm, strong as the coil of a pythoness, constrict his waist and lift him bodily to his now sore and burning feet. Sensitive as they were, however, Sir William, putting away gentle Mary's supporting arm, stood his full weight on those restored feet, rose on his toes, turned them from side to side, and otherwise moved them to bring back circulation and pliancy.
"The doctor, he no cut them off now, eh?" commented Mary, glancing down at the healthily-reddened members in a satisfied way. Ware turned toward her instantly; stepped over; grasped her hand; shook it warmly.
"Thanks, so much," he said, with a shining gratitude, "and I wish there was a more expressive word I might use, Mary. We are, some of us," he eyed her thoughtfully, "so used to having these things done for us as a matter of course by those who are really our fellow-beings, that we often omit the 'thank you'—taking the often vital service rendered as our due, just because the good Samaritan happens to be a maid or valet. But here in Canada we're all fellow-citizens, aren't we?"
"I get you some supper," said Mary, "and fetch you a pair of the boss's socks."