Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 7, 2025
Nothing with life was visible save a huge raven which wheeled to and fro with a solemn croak and almost noiseless wing. But the case of Winklemann was not yet hopeless. His chum, Louis Lambert, could not shake himself free from a suspicion that the cry, which had been put down to imagination, might after all have been that of some perishing human being perhaps that of his friend.
"Haven't swallowed much water, I hope?" "No, no," said Winklemann faintly; "mine lunks, I do tink, are free of vatter, but mine lecks are stranchly qveer. I hav no lecks at all! 'Pears as if I vas stop short at zee vaist!" Herr Winklemann said no more, but was swiftly borne, in a state of semi-consciousness, to his friends on the Little Mountain.
He soon came to see the habit in its true light, and gave it up, luckily, before he became its slave. He would have been more than mortal, however, had he given in at once. Continuing, therefore, to puff with obstinate vigour, he returned to the charge. "Smoking is no worse than drinking, Winklemann, and you know that you're fond of beer." "Bon!" said Rollin, nodding approval.
But they spoke kindly to the poor woman, and gave her nearly all their remaining stock of provisions, reserving just enough for two days. "I've travelled before now on short allowance," said Warder, with a pitiful smile. "We're sure to come across something before long. If not, we can travel empty for a bit." "Goot; it vill make us lighter," said Winklemann, with a grave nod.
It was while Winklemann was busily engaged on the stage that the storm broke forth which compelled the clergyman to spend the night on the islet, as already described. Of course the storm also forced Winklemann to remain at the station. But that impulsive youth's regard for his "moder" would not permit of his giving in without a struggle.
That tall handsome fellow, with the curly black hair and flashing eyes, who bears himself so confidently as he greets the sisters, is Louis Lambert. The thickset youth behind him, with the shock of flaxen hair and imperceptible moustache, is Herr Winklemann, a German farmer's son, and a famed buffalo-hunter.
Perhaps the storm may not come on; many such threatenings, you know, come to nothing." Winklemann looked anxiously up at the sky and shook his head, but the entreaties of the lady prevailed. The good-natured German consented to remain for a "ver leetle" time, and at once set about urging on and directing the erection of the stage.
Just previous to this the party had been joined by Herr Winklemann and Michel Rollin, who, after seeing their respective mothers made as comfortable as possible in the circumstances, had been going about the camp chatting with their numerous friends. Louis Lambert had also joined the circle, and Peegwish stood modestly in the background.
But she would be at home to receive Michel on his return. That she would! And she was right. She reached the settlement alive, though terribly exhausted. Warder and Winklemann did not "come across" anything except one raven, but they shot that and devoured it, bones and all. Then they travelled a day without food and without halt.
Staggering through the flood with her, as we have said, Winklemann carried her to the cottage of old Liz, who received her with tender care, helped to place her in the big chair, and remembering Daddy's tendency to fall into the fire, tied her securely therein.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking