At last they stopped,
utterly exhausted, only to find that they were lost in the icy, dark
wilderness; and they went on groping blindly for any kind of shelter
under which to wait for the first glimmer of dawn. They finally came
upon a ruined cabin, and although the whole front of it was gone, some
of the roof and a part of the walls were left, and Father Orin led Toby
into the driest, corner. Taking off the wet saddle and the soaked,
half-frozen blanket, he laid them on the ground. He patted Toby as he
did this, and Toby's responsive whinny said it was all right, just as
plain as if he had been able to talk. But Father Orin was not quite
satisfied, and moving a little farther over in the corner, where it was
so dark that even Toby could not see what he was doing, he pulled off
his poor old overcoat, from which the water was dripping, but which was
still warm and partly dry on the inside. Stealing back to Toby, he laid
the coat over his shivering shoulders, chuckling to think that Toby
would never know that it was not the saddle-blanket. Feeling now that he
had done his best for his friend, he buttoned his cassock closer and
laid down on the freezing ground, with the frozen saddle for a pillow,
and tried to get what rest and sleep he could.
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