He ran straight up the little steep path which led through the
woods. On she followed, her cloak white with snow, until she came,
into the more open ground, where she lost sight of Fly and for a time
stood bewildered, until he should return and guide her. The birds and
beasts had gone to rest, and the stillness of the moors was awful. It
was night, and dark. Suddenly she heard a child's feeble voice, and in
an instant she pressed on towards the spot from which the sound came;
soon she heard Fly's loud howl for aid. At last she reached the spot,
and found a little boy half asleep, a kind of drowsiness which
precedes death. He could not speak; he could only moan. She moistened
his lips with the gin, and poured a little down his throat. She then
raised him up and carried him a short distance down the hill; then she
stopped to rest awhile; and then she got as far as the woods, where
the winds were not so cold. Again she gave him a few drops from her
vial, and now he was able to walk a few steps; then Martha, put up a
fervent prayer to God for assistance, as she dragged the lost boy
to her cottage.
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