"Preserve us a', Jamie! he's perfectly perishin'; his hand is as cauld and stiff as the poker. I maun get on the kettle and heat some water to thaw the snaw aff him."
"Na, na," cried James, "that wad mak him waur, woman. Rin ye to the door and get a gowpen o' snaw, and rub his hands wi' _it_ and a rough clout time aboot, and sprinkle some cauld water in his face, and he'll may be sune come till himsel again."
"Jamie," said the guidwife, in a tone of gentle remonstrance, "the lad's gotten owre muckle snaw and cauld water already; that's just what's the matter wi' him. I maun hae up the fire and get something warm till 'im."
"Ye're haverin, Nanny," said James, who was too much agitated to be respectful. "Gang ye and get the snaw, I tell ye; for ye understand naething o' the matter."
"Aweel, aweel, then," said Nanny, "ye hae mair skill o' doctory than me, Jamie; but it's a very unnatural-like cure, to rub cauld snaw on a man perishin' wi' the cauld."
Nanny got the snow, and commenced the operation with great activity, while James reached his hand to a pitcher which was standing near, and sprinkled a few drops of water in the stranger's face. He soon began to show some symptoms of returning animation, and James earnestly inquired--
After a considerable pause, the stranger replied, as if the question had only then reached him--
"God be praised that it's sae!" said James. "Gie him a drink, Nanny, woman, and he'll be a' richt in a wee again."
Nanny brought some water, and, while she was endeavouring to pour it into the stranger's mouth, James got a full view of his face, and cried out--
"He's the very young gentleman that I cam doon the hill wi' this afternoon. Dear me, what a nicht he's had, wanderin amang the drift sin yon time!"
"He's a bonny laddie at ony rate," said Nanny, looking close into his face, "Ye'll no grudge to let him get some heat noo, Jamie. Help me aff wi' his coat and his shoon; and we'll just coup him inowre in oor ain warm bed, here."
"That's weel thocht on," said James. "I canna say but ye hae sometimes a gliffin o' sense aboot ye, Nanny."
The stranger soon recovered so far as to be able to put off his own clothes; and though he remonstrated strongly against taking possession of the honest couple's bed, they would not be resisted in their kindness; and he was obliged to comply. Nanny now took the management of the patient wholly into her own hands; and, as she had all her life considered heat the only remedy for a man perishing with cold, she began to make preparations for applying her own cure. She stirred the fire, supplied it with fresh fuel, laid a brick across it on each side, and placed a panful of water between them. She then took James's leather apron, and folded it so as to form a substitute for a fan; and with it she blew the slumbering embers into flaming activity. In a very short time the bricks were _red_, and the water boiling hot. The former were immersed in water, and then wrapped up in flannel, and laid to the stranger's feet and breast; the latter was converted into gruel, which, though not very thirsty, he drank with a very good appetite--having missed his supper that night on the hill.