THE RESCUE.
The circumstances which had brought Edward Sherman so opportunely to
the scene of disaster were simply these:
On his way to call upon Little Wolf he had ridden round to Hank
Glutter's saloon in order to leave a package of Eastern papers, as an
act of courtesy in return for previous favors from Hank. As he pulled
up before the door, Mr. Wycoff, urged by the proprietor, came reeling
out with blood-shot eyes, and swearing that he would never leave the
place without another drink. Hank had some trouble in coaxing him on
to his sled, and getting him started for home. Having rid himself of
his troublesome customer, he turned his attention to Edward.
"Come in, Mr. Sherman," said he, "I am at liberty now. That man Wycoff
has been quite an annoyance to me of late. He has no control over his
appetite, and consequently ought never to drink; but I can't refuse
him, and it wouldn't mend the matter if I did, for he can easily get
it elsewhere, and, perhaps, where no discrimination would be used, and
he would become too much intoxicated to get home at all; but drunken
loafers are not allowed to hang around here."
"I have brought some papers which I thought you might like to look
at," said Edward taking no notice of what the other had said.
"Thank you, Mr. Sherman, you had better come in a while. I have just
received some sherry said to be very fine. I would like your judgment
upon the quality of the article."
"Another time, Mr. Glutter; I am in something of a hurry to-day."
"Well, just wait a minute," said Hank, and he darted in and brought
out a bottle and slipped it in the corner of the sleigh under the
buffalo. "There," said he, "try it at your leisure, Mr. Sherman."
"Thank you, Mr. Glutter,--good day," and Edward hastened to the home
of Little Wolf.
When informed by Sorrel Top that Little Wolf had gone to Mr. Wycoff's
for Fanny, his pride was at the moment piqued; for he well knew that
she had reason to suppose that he would visit her that afternoon.
Since the memorable New Year's eve, when leaning upon Dr. Goodrich's
arm, she had so resolutely turned away from him, he felt that all was
not right between them; and he had looked forward with longing
impatience for the hour, when, once more alone with her, he could ask
an explanation. Although he was confident that she was then absent
purposely to avoid him, alarm for her safety overcame every other
feeling, and with a foreboding heart, he turned in the direction she
had taken.
From the top of the hill he saw enough to hasten him down to Daddy,
and from thence through snow and rocks to Little Wolf.
"Are you hurt, darling?" he said, eagerly grasping her hand.
Little Wolf uttered an exclamation of pain and fainted. Edward turned
pale. "Daddy," he shouted, throw down that bottle in the corner of the
sleigh."
"What is it you want fur to give her," said Daddy, doubtfully.
"It's wine; throw it down here quickly."
"She won't tech the infarnel stuff."
"She has fainted, you simpleton; give me the wine."
"'Tween you and me, there ain't no bottle here," said Daddy, doggedly.
"Sprinkle a little snow in her face, and she'll come too."
"Daddy," thundered Edward, completely exasperated, "throw down that
wine, or I'll know the reason why."
"The reason why, is," said Daddy, deliberately, "there ain't no bottle
in this ere sleigh--'tween you and me, this ere hoss of yourn is
gettin mighty oneasy, I'm obleeged fur tu stand at his head every
minute."
"Hitch him somewhere, Daddy, and throw the buffalo over him--the
bottle is under the buffalo, you'll find it and bring it."
"No I won't bring it nuther," muttered Daddy to himself."
"I guess there's something the matter with Miss DeWolf's arm, she
couldn't use it when she tried to get up," said a voice close behind
Edward.
He turned and saw that the suggestion had come from Fanny Green, who
lay a short distance off, cosily wrapped in the form of a little black
bundle.
"Are you hurt, Fanny?" he said.
"O no, I'm not hurt a bit," she answered brightly. "I prayed that I
might be saved, and I was saved."
"I wish you would pray we might get safely up this steep place into
the road," said Edward.
"Miss DeWolf is very little, replied Fanny hopefully, "I guess you can
carry her up. If my cloak was off, I think I could walk by myself."
Edward undid her cloak and stood her upon her feet. He then raised
Little Wolf in his arms, and staggered a few feet in the snow, and
laid her down again, almost discouraged. But as he could devise no
other plan to rescue her from her unpleasant situation, he redoubled
his efforts. He occasionally stumbled against rocks, and fell into
drifts, but always so as to shield his burden from harm.
Daddy was stubborn in witholding the bottle, and Little Wolf at length
awoke to consciousness without it. Awoke to feel herself pressed close
to Edward's throbbing breast, to listen to endearing words, that
warmed into new life and vigor the hope in which she had indulged. The
hope, that possibly, through her influence, he might be persuaded to
give up the only habit which marred his otherwise unblemished,
character.
"Darling, darling, you are safe now with me," he whispered, as she
unclosed her eyes; "were you hurt by the fall?"
"Only my arm, Edward; it is very painful. I'm afraid it is broken--oh,
put me down, the pain makes me faint."
"I love so to hold you to my heart," he said as he let her slip softly
on the snow, and examined the wounded member.
"It _is_ really broken, just above the wrist," he said in surprise,
how careless I have been!"
Edward was not skilful in surgery, but he did the best he could with
pocket handkerchief bandages.
Little Wolf nerved herself to bear the pain which every movement
aggravated, and Edward again lifted her up.
"Now, darling, we shall soon get to the top."
"Where is Fanny?" said Little Wolf, suddenly remembering her protege.
"O, she is somewhere, working her way along in my track," said Edward.
Both looked back, and not far behind saw Fanny kneeling with closed
eyes beside a snow capped rock. Her tiny hand, rough and red with cold
and toil, clasped devoutly upon her breast, and her lips moved as if
in prayer. The little black quilted hood she wore had fallen back,
revealing soft golden hair, radiant in the slant rays of the declining
sun, and upon her cheek a tear glistened like a dew-drop on a flower.
"The tears came to Little Wolf's eyes. "Poor little thing! she feels
forsaken," she whispered, "let us wait and encourage her."
While they were waiting a neighboring farmer happened along; a strong,
stalwart man, who joined right heartily in helping them out of their
difficulty.
The first thing that Edward did when he reached the sleigh was to
search for the bottle of sherry. "Strange," said he to Little Wolf,
"Mr. Glutter certainly put a bottle of sherry here as I came along,
and now it is nowhere to be found. I wish I had it for your sake."
Daddy glanced furtively at Little Wolf, who, suspecting the truth,
murmured something about feeling better.
"He ain't a goin fur to git none of that infarnel stuff down the
honey," said Daddy to himself, as the sleigh with Edward, Little Wolf,
and Fanny disappeared down the other side of the hill.
A consultation was next held between Daddy and the farmer as to the
probable condition of Fleet Foot, which was speedily ascertained by
the latter who chanced to have a rope with him suitable for letting
himself down to where he could test the case. Scaleing the rocks with
his temporary ladder, he returned the verdict "died of a broken neck."
"I was pretty nigh sartin he was stun dead," said Daddy, gravely. "I'm
much, obleeged to ye, neighbor; I guess I'll go hum, bein I can't du
nothin fur the poor critter.--I tell ye, neighbor, these are things
takes right hold on me. Fleet Foot was a buster, and I sot heaps by
him, and so did the honey. 'Tween you and me, that cussed, infarnel
liquor drinkin is at the bottom of a awful heap of trouble. If I could
make the laws, the hull infarnel stuff would be handled like pison and
pistols, ruther keerful."
"Wycoff is pretty well off, I guess he can be made to pay pretty heavy
damages," said the farmer.
"'Tween you an' me, that ere is poor consolation. Supposen the honey's
neck had been broken, and the chances was agin her, what money du ye
think could pay for her life? I tell ye what, the thing is all wrong,
liquor makin and liquor sellin does mischief that no money can't pay
fur."