Cecile called him, she shook him,
she even cried over him, but all to no effect, he was fast asleep.
Yes, Maurice was asleep, and Cecile was holding him in her arms.
Joe was away? and Toby?--Cecile was not very sure where Toby was.
She and her little brother were alone, half buried in the snow. What
a dreadful position! What a terrible danger!
Cecile kept repeating to herself, "Maurice is asleep, Maurice will
never wake again. If I sleep I shall never wake again,"
But the strange thing was that, realizing the danger, Cecile did not
care. She was not anxious about Joe. She had no disposition to call
to Toby. Even the purse of gold and the sacred promise became affairs
of little moment. Everything grew dim to her--everything indifferent.
She was only conscious of a sense of intense relief, only sure that
the dreadful, dreadful pain from the cold in her legs was leaving her
--that she, too, no longer felt the cold of the night. Jesus the Guide
seemed very, very near, and she fancied that she heard "thousands of
children" singing, "Glory, glory, glory."
Then she remembered no more.
CHAPTER IV.
TOBY AGAIN TO THE RESCUE.
Meanwhile Joe was struggling in a snowdrift. Not ten paces away he
had suddenly sunk down up to his waist. Notwithstanding his rough
hard life, his want of food, his many and countless privations, he
was a strong lad. Life was fresh and full within him. He would not,
he could not let it go cheaply.
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