[Illustration: "ACROSS THE SNOWY FIELDS."]
"We can get back in time to meet the train, if we hurry," said Malcolm,
looking at his watch again. "There's still fifteen minutes."
No one saw the little procession file out of the waiting-room and across
the snowy field, for it was growing dark, and the lamps were lighted and
the curtains drawn in the few houses they passed. Malcolm went first,
proudly leading the friendly old bear. Jonesy came next beside Keith,
and the man shuffled along in the rear, looking around with suspicious
glances whenever a twig snapped, or a distant dog barked.
As the wind struck against Jonesy's body, he drew the bit of blanket
more closely around him, and coughed hoarsely. His teeth were chattering
and his lips blue. "You look nearly frozen," said Keith, who, well-clad
and well-fed, scarcely felt the cold. "Here! put this on, or you'll be
sick," Unbuttoning his thick little reefer, he pulled it off and tied
its sleeves around Jonesy's neck.
A strange look passed over the face of the man behind them. "Blessed if
the little kid didn't take it off his own back," he muttered. "If any
man had ever done that for me--just once--well, maybe, I wouldn't ha'
been what I am now!"
For a moment, as they reached the top of the hill, bear, boys, and man
were outlined blackly against the sky like strange silhouettes.
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