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We had walked down some way before we came upon other sheep, and here was one which had just lambed. The poor little creatures were lying on the freezing snow-crust, while their mother made frantic efforts in her weak condition to lick them dry. If a lamb is exposed to severe cold for even a short time at this stage of existence, it never recovers. The shepherd forced the lambs to swallow a little milk, and in a while they were standing upright and out of immediate danger. As we followed down the wall the sheep seemed to know us, and watched us come and go without terror. Perhaps they found some company on that wild night in the periodic lantern visits. Towards three a.m., wet through with the sleet and mist, with hands almost frozen, we returned to the farmstead, to be told that the other shepherd had not yet come in, and that some harm might have befallen him. Though the wind was shrieking over the pitch-dark dale, and the cold was, seemingly, more intense; though the snow-blizzard had gradually developed into an awful sleet, and the snow-wreaths were piled high—it was no time to draw back, to wait for help and daylight. The shepherd’s favourite dog was brought out, and three of us tramped sorely and wearily back into the darkness. For awhile we beat the boundaries of the intake closely, visiting every corner where a sheep might have been lying, without avail. Then, as we passed a narrow gully, the old dog gave a sign for which we had been looking. In a few minutes we had located the portion of drift in which Ralph was lying, and ere long we saw a portion of cloth in the excavation we made. A couple of minutes later we were carrying the senseless body towards the farm.