Alan gave a startled, hopeless look at his car, and then turned and plunged after his new friend, wondering what he should do next. As he wallowed through a drift because he hadn’t kept close to his guide he had a sickening sensation of fierce cold hands gripping his thinly clad ankles. Snow in his shoes. Why hadn’t he stopped to put on his galoshes?
The two fought their way back in the teeth of the wind and arrived at last in shelter once more.
“Now,” said Alan, shivering with cold as he stood exuding snow onto the clean linoleum-covered hall, “would you mind saying over again what you told me out there? I couldn’t be sure what you said.”
Lance grinned.
“I said you had stripped the teeth from the gears in the differential. That’s easy to do with chains in a snow like this. Tearing, grinding sound in the rear when it stopped, you know.” And Lance put up his fingers and illustrated the stripped gears. “But the question is what can I do for you? You can’t get that car fixed in a hurry, and not out there in this storm anyway. It’s got to be towed to a garage, and I haven’t even got my own car to help tow you. You’ll have to wait till Bill Gates gets here. Where was it you were going? You’d better stay here all night. This storm is something fierce, and getting worse all the time.”
Alan shook his head.
“It’s impossible. I’m carrying some medicine to a woman who will die if she doesn’t get it. I gave my word of honor. I’ve got to get it there by six o’clock. The doctor said he wouldn’t answer for the consequences if she didn’t have it by then.”
“That’s different!” said Lance suddenly grave. “Of course you have to go. Where is it?”
“It’s to a sort of castle on a mountain. There’s a Mrs. Watt there very sick. It’s her son-in-law’s home. The name is Farley.”
“Not Tom Farley’s big stone house on the cliff!” exclaimed Lance with startled eyes. “Man alive, you couldn’t have got there even if your car hadn’t broken down. Not in a car! It’s ten miles, around by the river road, but I just heard a few minutes ago when I was telephoning that there’s a drift twelve feet high there at one place, that shuts the pass off entirely. They are utterly shut off up there except from this side. There’s only one way to get up there now—and I’m not so sure of it—and that’s by the trail up the mountain, and you have to take it on your feet.”
Alan looked into the other young man’s eyes and seemed to read just what that would man. His face grew white and stern and he looked down for an instant and then up and straightened his shoulders, setting his lips.
“Then I’ll have to take that way!” he said. “I staked my life on it and it’s that woman’s life or mine it seems, so here goes. Show me the way and tell me how far it is.”
He ended with a brave smile.
Daryl in the shadows of the dining room was watching him, comparing him with another, wondering what Harold would have said if confronted by such a demand.
They were all watching him, the mother and the father from the other room, and looking with startled eyes at their own boy, a frightened question in their hearts.
Lance looked at Alan steadily for an instant, and then he answered quietly, “It’s only three miles up the mountain on this side, but it’s a hard climb up the cliff. I’ll go with you, of course.”
“No!” said Alan decidedly. “I couldn’t let you. This is my challenge, not yours. Just tell me the way and I’ll find it.”
“You couldn’t possibly find your way alone, you a stranger. I’ve been born and brought up climbing all over the place. I know every nook and cranny. If anybody can find the way in the dark, I can. I’ve camped up there since I was a kid!”
“But I can’t let you run this risk. It is my duty, not yours!” declared Alan with finality.
“Look here, man, don’t you know that the same thing that makes this a challenge to you makes it binding on me also? There’s a life to be saved up there, and we’re going to save it. Come on. We mustn’t lose a minute of daylight.”
“Yes,” said Father Devereaux, stepping into the light of the fire, his white hair like a halo around this sweet strong face, his fine eyes shining with something almost like exaltation. “Yes, both of you must go, of course, but you’ll have to put on good warm clothing before you start. This friend here is shaking with the cold, and can’t you see his feet are dripping wet? You couldn’t survive a mile in this storm like that. Lance, take him into the spare room and give him some good warm clothes, long woolen underwear, two pairs of wool stockings, high boots, you know what he needs, and you’ve plenty of them.”
“Why, I’ve a few things for sports out in my car,” said Alan, suddenly remembering. “I was prepared for winter sports.”
“Never mind those things!” said Lance sharply. “We haven’t time to wait to unpack the car. Leave it where it is till Bill Gates gets here. Dad, you’ll have him unload it and bring the things in, won’t you? Got your keys, man? Better leave them here. Where’s your medicine? In the car?”
“It’s right here in my pocket,” said Alan soberly, handing over his car keys. “I don’t know what to say to thank you all, and I feel like a criminal letting your son in for this awful climb—” Alan’s voice grew husky with feeling. “I’m Alan Monteith. Here’s my business card. Not that it matters of course, now.”
“That’s all right, son, don’t worry. This is a call of course. We’ll put you both in God’s hands.”
“And I’m Lance Devereaux,” said the other young man with a quick clasp of the stranger’s hand. “Come on now, we’ve got to doll up. Mother, you going to give us a cup of coffee to start on?”
“I’m making the coffee,” said Daryl quietly. “Mother’s gone up to the attic to get some more warm woolens.”
“Come on, then!” said Lance, starting toward the stairs.
“Take Mr. Monteith into the guest room,” said Daryl, coming forward and flinging open the door of the room that was all ready for Harold Warner, and her brother saw as he looked that the fire he had laid there was lit and the room was bright and warm. He flung his sister an inscrutable look and then gave her a blinding smile of appreciation that warmed her heart all during the hours that followed.
“Get those wet socks off, Alan,” said Lance, coming in with a rough Turkish towel, “and rub those ankles till they burn. It won’t do to start off on this expedition with cold feet. There. I guess you can wear those things. I’m about your size. Anyway, we aren’t being choosy about our outfits just now. Haste is the main thing. I’ll beat you to it!” And Lance with a grin strode up to his own room to array himself with swift fingers.
Then the telephone rang in the little hallway just beside Alan’s door, and he could not help hearing most of what was said. He was dressing in strange woolly garments as swiftly as his cold shaking fingers could manipulate them, but he could not help listening eagerly with a wild hope that perhaps the garage man had somehow come to his rescue, impossible as that seemed.
The voice at the other end of the wire was one of those high-keyed, raucous voices, which sometimes on the telephone broadcast themselves more widely than they intend. Every syllable uttered could be clearly heard in the guest room by the guest who was working so frantically to array himself for his daring expedition.
“That you, Darling?” the voice said.
“What? What did you say?”
“I shaid ‘Darling!’ Isn’t that your name, lovely one? Did you shay Daryl meant Darling? Well, there you are!”
“Harold! What in the world do you mean, talking like that? Stop kidding me, and tell me where you are? I’ve been so anxious about you!”
“Angshus about me, Darling? That’s awfully sweet of you! But why angshus?”
There was a puzzled pause and then Daryl’s troubled voice. “How strangely you talk, Harold. What’s the matter with you? Where are you? When will you get here?”
“Me? I’m at Bayport. Called up to say hello.”
“At Bayport? What are yo
u doing at Bayport? Oh, have you had an accident, Harold!”
“Acshident? No, I haven’t had acshident! I’m at a housh party, Darling, at Bayport, my boss’s summer home. My boss’s daughter brought me down in her limousine, and she wantsh you to come, too. She said I might ashk you. She shuggestsh you take a taxi over, econ you can’t get a taxi justsh shay the word and we’ll drive over fer you. Joy ride. Shee?”
“Harold!” Daryl’s distressed voice was raised sharply. She had forgotten the nearness of the stranger. “What is the matter, Harold? Aren’t you coming to spend Christmas here?”
“No, Darling. No, I can’t! Had a econd engagement. No, it washn’t econd, it was premature. No, that isn’t the right word either. But you know what I mean. The boss’s daughter asht me, an’ buishnessh always comesh firsht, you know.”
“But Harold, you promised. You said it was our Christmas. Our first Christmas together!”
“Did I shay that? Well, mebbe I did….” The voice trailed off uncertainly and then began again. “Yesh, maybe I did shay that but I didn’t mean it. I meant econd Chrishmus, ur mebbe it wash third…” The voice trailed off again.
“Harold!” Daryl’s voice was full of tears and horror. “You’ve been drinking!”
“What, Darling? Yesh, jusht a dear little bit of a drink! Couldn’t help it, you know. Boss offered it. Boss’s daughter shaid I must. Buishness, you know. Wouldn’t wantta loosh my job. You wouldn’t want me to loosh my job. But, Darling, ef you’ll jusht take a taxi and come over I’ll promish to say no.” The uncertain voice broke into song. “Have courage-my-boyto—shay—noo!”
Daryl suddenly hung up the receiver and when Alan came out of the spare room a moment later she was still standing there, her face white as death, her eyes wide with sorrow. His heart almost stood still with its sympathy for her. But, oh, he must not let her see that he had heard that conversation!
Lance appeared on the scene almost simultaneously, and Mother Devereaux with a sweet brave look in her eyes called them out to the table to get the coffee.
As they sat down Father Devereaux appeared from the kitchen and standing by the table lifted his hand and looking up said, “Father, we commend these two dear boys to Thy care as they go forth into Thy storm and cold on their errand of mercy. Keep them, guide them, and bless them. Bring them safely back to us without mishap if it be Thy will, Amen!”
Alan with quickly bent head listened to every word and felt suddenly as if God were in that house. That was what made it so different from other homes he had been seeing lately. God was there!
He lifted his head and looked at the quite old man, tall and strong, white-haired but glory-faced, and marveled.
Then the talk dropped to the immediate needs of the hour.
“Son,” said Father Devereaux, “I’ve got some equipment for you. Here’s a rope and you are to put one end around your waist and the other around this friend’s waist, and you are not to lose each other. Mind! Your lives may depend upon that. I don’t want to frighten you, but it is good to take precautions. We don’t want either of you lost in the snow.”
“Yes, sir,” said Lance between swallows of coffee, “that’s a good idea! We’ll do it.”
“And here’s another coil of rope,” went on the father. “When you come down the mountain it will be dark. You can sling this around a tree, and each take an end, and go down to the length of your tether, and there pull one end loose and sling it around another tree. In that way you will be able to keep your bearings better, and get back if you get off the trail. Understand?”
“Yes, sir. I understand, sir. You know we used to do that when we were kids out camping, Dad. If it’s only clothesline it’s very light. I’ll sling it over my shoulder. And I’ve four flashlights and some extra batteries. We’ll be all right.”
“Yes, and now just one more thing. Here are these two little candle-lanterns that you and Daryl used to have when you were children. Mother’s fixed them up with candles, and a string on each handle. When you are on your way up and come to the narrowest place by the cliff there, we want you to tie these lanterns to the trees on the side farthest from the cliff, then light the candles and close the lantern shades so the wind can’t blow them out. They’ll probably burn till you get back to them. The candles are good and thick. Now, is that giving you too much to carry, son?”
“No, Dad, and we’re packing a couple of the light snow shovels, at least for a ways. We might need them at the turn of the road before we start up. We may have to abandon them, but we’ll fling them where we can find them when the snow melts off. We’ll carry them as far as we comfortably can.”
“Good idea, but you mustn’t climb with too heavy a load. You’ll find it heavy walking. Now go, and God be with you!”
The benediction seemed to Alan to be a tangible thing that hovered over them as they went out into the thick white gloom of the fast-approaching evening. Alan looked back as they turned into the road and caught a glimpse of branches, and the girl’s white face pressed against the window pane, stark and white and suffering.
Then he turned sharply into the road and followed the steps of his guide. The rope they had tied around their waists was a light thing in itself, but a comfort even as they started, plodding knee-deep in the heavy snow, each step an achievement. It was going to be no easy expedition, he saw, and a strange startling possibility suddenly presented itself to him there in the still whiteness. He might never come back alive!
At the turn of the road he looked back once more. He could barely see the glint of the lights from the tree now, for it was not dark enough for them to carry far, and the visibility was poor. But he gazed as long as he could, for it seemed he was leaving a house where God presided. And yet, God had come along with them, out into the storm. His storm, His snow, His cold, the old man had said.
He could not see the face of the girl now, but it was there; he knew it was there watching them out into the white peril, and there were tears, perhaps, upon her face. But she was strong and brave. He could see that. They were all strong and brave. It was their nearness to God that made them so. It was this that sent their son out to accept the challenge for this errand.
Now he could no longer see the house, the whiteness was too dense, and the snow stung his eyes so that he could scarcely keep them open, even bundled as he was, and so he turned almost blindly to plod on into the storm. He had staked his life, and the hour was moving on toward six. Would they make it in time? Would they ever come back alive, or would there be three lives lost instead of one?
Chapter 4
Ruth Latimer had been too busy all day to look out at the snow. She had come from her boardinghouse to the church during the early stages of the storm, and being shut within stained-glass windows she had no realization of what a few apparently idle flakes of snow could do in a few brief hours.
Ruth was the daughter of a Christian missionary, who, with his wife, had died during their early ministry when Ruth was a tiny child, and she had been sent home to her grandmother. But now the grandmother was gone also, and Ruth was practically alone in the world, with only a very small income. She had come to Collamer in the fall to teach in the public kindergarten, had become acquainted with the Devereauxs through attending the same church, and the three young people had seen quite a little of one another. It had been a great joy to Ruth to be invited to spend this first lonely Christmas since her grandmother’s death in a real home instead of a boardinghouse, and she cherished every minute of the anticipated visit. So it had been a disappointment to discover that the ladies of the church had arranged to give the little children’s classes in the Sunday school their Christmas treat on the day before Christmas, and of course they expected the teacher to be present, and to help in the preparations. For Ruth was not only teaching the kindergarten in day school, but also had charge of the youngsters in the beginners’ department of the Sunday school. So instead of going to the Devereaux house early on the day before Christmas as she would have
liked to do, and as they had asked her to do, she had to go over to the church to help prepare for the children who were scheduled to appear at half past two for a couple of hours of undiluted happiness.
Ruth had packed a small suitcase and taken it with her, taking the precaution to ask her landlady for a couple of sandwiches so that she would not have to stop and run back for her lunch, as the boardinghouse was at some distance from the church. Lance had said his car would be brought over for her to drive straight to his house from the church, so that she would have to waste no more time than was necessary.
But when she arrived at the church, fearing she was a little late, she found that none of the other ladies and no other teachers were there. The janitor had just come, and the church wasn’t very warm yet. She had to keep her coat on while she worked.
She had brought several games and a lot of material for a good time, and for the first half hour she busied herself arranging that. Then on the long blackboard that ran the length of the room, she drew a picture of Bethlehem to use with a story she was going to tell the children. She made it much more elaborate than she had intended, sketching in a hint of glory in the sky, and angels hovering above awed shepherds and sleeping sheep. She lingered over the picture to make it realistic because there seemed nothing else to do until the women came who had planned this party and had merely asked her to assist.
But the morning went on and no women came. Presently the telephone rang and Mrs. Bartlett, who was supposed to be at the head of the affair, told the janitor to tell whoever was there to go right ahead without her. She had been delayed and couldn’t tell how long it would be before she could get there. She didn’t wait to talk with Ruth. When the janitor told her Miss Latimer was there, she said with a relieved sigh, “Oh, well then, everything will be all right. Tell her to just go ahead and do whatever she thinks best. I’ll be there soon as I can!” and hung up.