His old body would not obey his will.
"It's no use, Dearest; I can't. Maybe it's just as well," he said.
"Freezing's an easy death, and you say people live on as spirits, after
they die. Maybe we can always be together, now."
"I don't know. I don't want you to die yet, Popsy. I never was able to
get through to a spirit, and I'm afraid.... Wait! Can you crawl a
little? Enough to get over under those young pines?"
"I think so." His left leg was numb, and he believed that it was broken.
"I can try."
He managed to roll onto his back, with his head toward the clump of pine
seedlings. Using both hands and his right heel, he was able to propel
himself slowly through the snow until he was out of the worst of the
wind.
"That's good; now try to cover yourself," Dearest advised. "Put your
hands in your coat pockets. And wait here; I'll try to get help."
Then she left him. For what seemed a long time, he lay motionless in the
scant protection of the young pines, suffering miserably. He began to
grow drowsy. As soon as he realized what was happening, he was
frightened, and the fright pulled him awake again.
Pages:
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29