Author: | Marget Penrose | ISBN: | 1230001666335 |
Publisher: | T.M. Digital Publishing | Publication: | May 4, 2017 |
Imprint: | Language: | English |
Author: | Marget Penrose |
ISBN: | 1230001666335 |
Publisher: | T.M. Digital Publishing |
Publication: | May 4, 2017 |
Imprint: | |
Language: | English |
But Dorothy believed a house must be near. Surely she would not be lost—covered up by the snow and frozen to death—near to a human habitation?
“There must be somebody living around here!” she murmured, plowing on through the drifts. “Help; help!”
Her faint cry brought no response. She was becoming confused as well as weary. The wind increased in force so rapidly that when she again halted and leaned back against it, it seemed to the weakened girl as though she were lying in somebody’s arms!
The snow swept around her like a mantle. It gathered deeply at her feet. She no longer felt the keen air, but was sinking into a pleasant lethargy.
There was peril in this, and at another time Dorothy would have understood it fully. But she was not now in a state to understand what threatened her. She was only drowsy—weak—almost insensible. Another moment and she would have fallen in the snow and sunk into that sleep from which there would be no awakening.
And then, to her dim eyes, appeared a sudden glow of lamplight ahead. It could not be far away, for she heard the hinges of a door creak, and then a voice reached her ears:
But Dorothy believed a house must be near. Surely she would not be lost—covered up by the snow and frozen to death—near to a human habitation?
“There must be somebody living around here!” she murmured, plowing on through the drifts. “Help; help!”
Her faint cry brought no response. She was becoming confused as well as weary. The wind increased in force so rapidly that when she again halted and leaned back against it, it seemed to the weakened girl as though she were lying in somebody’s arms!
The snow swept around her like a mantle. It gathered deeply at her feet. She no longer felt the keen air, but was sinking into a pleasant lethargy.
There was peril in this, and at another time Dorothy would have understood it fully. But she was not now in a state to understand what threatened her. She was only drowsy—weak—almost insensible. Another moment and she would have fallen in the snow and sunk into that sleep from which there would be no awakening.
And then, to her dim eyes, appeared a sudden glow of lamplight ahead. It could not be far away, for she heard the hinges of a door creak, and then a voice reached her ears: