After great difficulty and many stumbles, he at last found himself in close proximity to the call that sounded from time to time to guide him, and then through the thickness he saw the wood of a little kind of shelter probably used at some time for tethering goats, and a second later he had gripped hold of Paddy herself. And she made no effort to resist him as, carried away by a rush of feeling, he could not control, he strained her, half-fainting, to his heart. Paddy trembled violently from weakness. Her cotton blouse was wet through, and she was perished with cold and dread, for she had passed through a terrible time trying to find her way back to the others before she came across the little shelter and sank down worn out. Without quite knowing it, she clung to Lawrence for a few moments, and under the sudden reaction broke down into a few gasping sobs. He soothed her with the utmost tenderness, and then slipped off his coat and made her put it on, buttoning it up himself. He next arranged a kind of seat for her, where she could lean back against the framework of the hut, and then set to work at once to make a fire, cursing himself inwardly that he had not had the sense to bring a flask of brandy. Fortunately he had plenty of matches and some old letters, so that, by pulling down pieces of the shelter, he was quickly able to light a comforting fire, and busied himself keeping it going while Paddy had time to recover herself. When she did so, however, her first impulse was to shrink away, and there was a questioning expression in her eyes as she watched him. He noticed it at once, and sought to give her confidence by carefully keeping his face turned away from her. “Are you warmer now?” he asked. “I’m so vexed I came away without a flask.” “I am quite warm,” she said, and then suddenly discovered he was in his shirtsleeves, and exclaimed, “Where is your coat?” “I got so hot climbing,” he replied unblushingly, “and then, after lighting the fire, I could not bear it on.” She looked down at herself. “No, no, you have given it to me,” she cried. “Oh, how could you—you will be frozen!” and she began to take it off. “No, Paddy,” and a firm hand closed over hers; “you are not to take it off.” “But I must,” she cried. “I can’t see you catching your death of cold. Let go, Lawrence.” The hand only held more firmly. “Listen to me. I have got twice the hardihood that you have, and there is not the least fear of my catching cold. You are in my care until someone comes to look for us or we are able to find our way back, and I shall not allow you to take off that coat.” He smiled, and in the firelight his thin face was very winning. “If you are obstinate, I shall just sit beside you and hold it on.” Paddy buried her face in her hands and became suddenly silent.