staff with him, and by dint of plunging it before
us at every step we took--clinging close to each other, we went on safely
enough, as far as not falling down any of the steep rocks, but it was
slow, dreary work. My brother, I saw, was more guided by Lassie and the
way she took than anything else, trusting to her instinct. It was too
dark to see far before us; but he called her back continually, and noted
from what quarter she returned, and shaped our slow steps accordingly.
But the tedious motion scarcely kept my very blood from freezing. Every
bone, every fibre in my body seemed first to ache, and then to swell, and
then to turn numb with the intense cold. My brother bore it better than
I, from having been more out upon the hills. He did not speak, except to
call Lassie. I strove to be brave, and not complain; but now I felt the
deadly fatal sleep stealing over me.

"I can go no farther," I said, in a drowsy tone. I remember I suddenly
became dogged and resolved. Sleep I would, were it only for five
minutes. If death were to be the consequence, sleep I would. Gregory
stood still. I suppose, he recognized the peculiar phase of suffering to
which I had been brought by the cold.

"It is of no use," said he, as if to himself. "We are no nearer home
than we were when we started, as far as I can tell. Our only chance is
in Lassie. Here! roll thee in my maud, lad, and lay thee down on this
sheltered side of this bit of rock. Creep close under it, lad, and I'll
lie by thee, and strive to keep the warmth in us. Stay! hast gotten
aught about thee they'll know at home?"

I felt him unkind thus to keep me from slumber, but on his repeating the
question, I pulled out my pocket-handkerchief, of some showy pattern,
which Aunt Fanny had hemmed for me--Gregory took it, and tied it round
Lassie's neck.

"Hie thee, Lassie, hie thee home!" And the white-faced ill-favoured
brute was off like a shot in the darkness. Now I might lie down--now I
might sleep. In my drowsy stupor I felt that I was being tenderly
covered up by my brother; but what with I neither knew nor cared--I was
too dull, too selfish, too numb to think and reason, or I might have
known that in that bleak bare place there was nought to wrap me in, save
what was taken off another. I was glad enough when he ceased his cares
and lay down by me. I took his hand.

"Thou canst not remember, lad, how we lay together thus by our dying
mother. She put thy