Their strength renewed, the two men began again their brave combat with the elements, and forced their way across the snow fields towards the houses on the north side of George street, which furnished a slight shield against the ferocity of the storm. A helpful lull in the blast enabled them to make their way more quickly. The walls of St. Andrew’s Church were near at hand, and all doubts as to the position of the voices were removed. The calls came very clearly to their ears. Creeping along the edges of the houses, they succeeded in reaching the church, and found that, on the back of the drifts, they were then at the level of its upper windows. The men peered into the darkness beyond the panes of glass and knocked vociferously. Voices and steps answered them. The next moment a man’s figure could be discerned advancing, and then the window opened. Leacraft entered first, followed by Jim, and both turned to the yet silent figure beside them. His silence lasted scarcely an instant. “God!” he exclaimed. “You have come none too soon! We should have died here! There is a young girl downstairs, a friend of mine. We started for the train, and just in front of the church she fainted. I drew her in here, as the door was open. A chill followed; I could not carry her away in this storm, and we were caught. It was our last chance. I can’t explain now the reason for our remaining so long behind the rest of the people who have left Edinburgh. We are here. Can you get us out? I can shift for myself, but Ethel--you see it is impossible. What--what--” Leacraft interrupted. “Explanations are not needed. We must all get out of this at once. We must take her between us, and fight our way back.” Already he had begun to move towards the flight of stairs near to them, to descend to the man’s companion, when the man seized him by the arm, passed him, calling to them to follow. They descended rapidly, and saw on the ground floor of the church, lying in a pew, with a flickering gas jet burning feebly above it, the figure of the woman the man had mentioned. She had propped herself on her hand and elbow, and gazed at the three faces looking down on her, with a frightened, still expression, in which relief and confidence, however, were not altogether absent. Jim had already brought out the whisky bottle, and, with unpractised directness, offered it to the girl. “Here, my leddy; tak’ a sip of this, and let it be a good one. An’, gentlemen,” turning to Leacraft and the stranger, “it’s awa’ with a’ o’ us, or the deil will mak’ our shrouds.” Leacraft turned to the man. “Have you snow-shoes?” he asked. “Yes,” answered the stranger. “Then,” continued Leacraft, “we will start. Out of the window upstairs. Jim, you go ahead, and I and the gentleman will carry the lady. Madame,” to the lady, “this is a forlorn trip, but it will soon be over, and I feel we can trust you to help us.”