At last
we took our knives and cut it down the back, and after cutting open both
sleeves, managed to peel it off. We had to cut open his boots in the
same way. His under-coat and all his clothes were frozen. There appeared
to be little warmth left in him; he was speechless.
But just then we heard some one coming in through the outside camp. It
was the old Squire.
Our farmhouse, on the higher ground to the northwest, afforded a view of
the lake; and the old gentleman had been keeping an eye on what went on
down there, for he was quite far-sighted. He saw Sylvester arrive with
his team, and a few minutes later saw us start for the shore, lashing
the horse. He knew that something had gone wrong, and hitching up old
Sol, he had driven down in haste.
"Hot water, quick!" he said. "Make some hot coffee!" And seizing a
towel, he gave Sylvester such a rubbing as it is safe to say he had
never undergone before.
Gradually signs of life and color appeared. The man began to speak,
although rather thickly.
By this time the little camp was like an oven; but the old Squire kept
up the friction. We gave Rufus two or three cups of hot coffee, and in
the course of an hour he was quite himself again.
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