arly morning. A farmer's cart was with some
difficulty found, which happened to be going a good part of the
distance, and in this the two boys late that afternoon ensconced
themselves. They talked little at first, and presently not at all.
Each had his own thoughts, and they were serious enough to occupy them
for a much longer journey.

Night fell presently, soon after they had started, and with it the rain
and wind came heavily. There was little enough protection for these two
worn-out ones in an empty open cart, but what they could get from an old
wrap and some boards they secured.

As the storm grew worse this poor shelter became quite useless, and the
two boys suffered all the horrors of a bitter exposure.

Loman, who had got a cough already, was the first to show distress, and
he soon became so cold and numbed that Oliver grew alarmed. They would
be better walking than sitting still in that jolting cart a night like
this.

So, much against their own inclination and the advice of the carman, who
characterised the proceedings as "tomfoolery," they alighted, and
attempted to take the short cut across the fields to Saint Dominic's.

Short cut, indeed! It was indeed a sarcastic name for the road those
two boys took that terrible night. Oliver could never recollect all
that happened those few hours. He was conscious of the tremendous
storm, of the hopeless losing of their way, and of Loman's relapse into
a state of half-unconsciousness, in the midst of which he constantly
begged to be allowed to lie down and sleep.

To prevent this was Oliver's principal occupation during that fearful
time. More than once he was forced into a hand-to-hand struggle to keep
his companion from his purpose. To let him lie down and sleep on such a
night would be, he knew, to leave him to certain death. At any cost he
must be kept moving. At last the storm fairly vanquished them. Even
Oliver began to grow half-hearted in his determination. He took off his
own coat and waistcoat and pat them on his comrade, who by this time was
stupid with cold and exhaustion. A few minutes longer and both might
have given themselves up, when suddenly there flickered a light before
them. All Oliver could do was to shout. He had no power left to drag
Loman farther, and leave him he would not. He shouted, and the reader
knows who heard that shout, and what the answer was.

Such was Oliver's story, and it needed little amplification. If it