There were wilder companions for this poor hunted creature than any that lived on the mountains.
"But you'll never live through the night in clothes like these." Sim shivered with the cold; his teeth chattered; his lank hands shook as with ague.
"Never live?
Oh, but I must not die, Ralph; no not yet--not yet." Was there, then, something still left in life that a poor outcast like this should cling to it?
"I'll go back with you," he said more calmly.

They turned, and with Sim between them Ralph and Rotha began to retrace their steps.

They had not far to go, when Sim reeled like a drunken man, and when they were within a few paces he stopped.
"No," he said, "I can't." His breath was coming quick and fast.
"Come, man, they shall give you the ingle bench; I'll see to that.
Come now," said Ralph soothingly.
"I've walked in front of this house for an hour to-night, I have," said Sim, "to and fro, to and fro, waiting for you; waiting, waiting; starting at my own shadow cast from the dim lowe of the windows, and then flying to hide when the door did at last--at long last--open or shut." Ralph shuddered.

It had been as he thought.

Then he said,-- "Yes, yes; but you'll come now, like a brave fellow--'a braw chiel,' you know." Sim started at the pleasantry with which Ralph had tried to soothe his spirits.