Her Friend Littlejohn

“It’s only mother, dearie; mother cud-
dling her little girl; sleep-a-sleep.”

Then he must have arisen shuddering in
his shirt-sleeves, and have lashed his arms
again and again about his body for warmth.

In the hollow in which they were found,
the snow-wreath, with the exception of a
narrow passage, a few feet in width where
they had blundered in, was impassably deep
on all sides. All round and round the
hollow the snow was very much trampled.

Worn out with fatigue and exposure, the
strong man had at last lain down beside the
child. His hand was under his head.

In that desperate circular race against cold
and death he must have been struck by his
own resemblance to the wild creatures pad-
ding round and round in their cages in the
Zoo, and what irony he must have felt in
the counsel of the wee green oak-man.
Well, he had followed the advice, had he
not? And, when he awoke, would he not
find that he had come out at the other side?

Hours afterwards, when at last Littlejohn
slowly drifted back to consciousness, he lay
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