Hermann Gottschalk stood a moment, took a faltering step and almost
fell. With a mighty effort, he stayed erect and spread his feet wide,
the better to brace himself.
Franz's father leaped from his chair, hurried to the youth, passed a
steadying arm around his shoulders and escorted him to the chair he had
just vacated. White-faced and trembling, Hermann sat limply down and
leaned forward to grasp the edge of the table. Franz's father nodded
toward his mother.
"Some wine please, Lispeth."
Franz's mother was already at the wine cask. She drew a cup, brought it
to the table, and the elder Halle held the cup to Hermann Gottschalk's
lips. Hermann sipped, gasped mightily, took another sip, and the warming
wine did its work. He relaxed his hold on the table and sank back in the
chair.
"Tell us what happened," the elder Halle said gently.
Hermann's voice was a husky whisper. "Father and I had to see the Widow
Geiser. It was a fine morning and we expected no trouble as we started
out on our skis. The storm was upon us suddenly, and within minutes it
was so fierce that we could no longer see where we were going. It was
some time before we knew we must have gone beyond the Widow Geiser's
and--"
Franz's father let him rest a moment and then, "Go on," he urged.
"We turned back to Dornblatt, but again we were unable to see where we
were going or guide ourselves by landmarks. Father became very tired. He
fell, then fell again. Finally, he cried, 'I can go no farther! Save
yourself!' I tried to carry him and could not. I knew I must get help."
"What time did you leave your father?" the elder Halle asked.
"I cannot be certain, but think it might have been an hour before night
fell," Hermann answered. "I went on, though I could not be sure at any
time that I was coming to Dornblatt. Then I heard a dog bark and guided
myself by the sound."