Jeffrey sat in his cave, huddled under his blanket and shivering while he watched the snow fall. The heavy clouds had increased all day yesterday while the temperature decreased until snow began to fall in the evening. It had fallen almost steadily through the night and the day.

Jeffrey didn't want to admit it, but he was getting sick. He had developed a cough a few days ago that was getting worse instead of better, and he felt achy and miserable. His throat was sore and scratchy and his head ached. He had dragged himself out of the cave that afternoon to find more firewood and had boiled his last piece of meat. He managed to get some of the broth down even though he had no appetite.

As the daylight faded, Jeffrey fed his fire and sat and watched the snow fall until his aches and pain drew him down to his pallet. He fell into a fitful sleep. In his dreams, he was searching for Bogg, running through dark corridors, calling his name, but he could never find him.

As the snow continued to fall, Jeffrey's fire began to falter and die but the shivering boy was unaware of anything around him.

vVvVv

"The snow has stopped, Mam!" Owen said the next morning. "Can I go and check on Jeffrey today?"

"Yes, I think you must," Blanche said. "A child should not be out alone in this weather. You have to get him to come home with you," she told Owen. "Tell him that this is only the first snowfall of the season and worse weather is sure to come. He must have better shelter and food."

"I'll bring him, Mam," Owen said determinedly. "Whether he wants to come or not!"

Owen set out through the snow and reached the lake before mid-day. "Jeffrey!" he called. "Jeffrey, are you here?" He did not see the smoke from his fire. Reaching the cave, he bent down and saw that the fire was out and that Jeffrey was tossing and turning on his pallet, muttering incoherently. "Jeffrey!" Owen said, reaching out to shake his arm. "Wake up!"

But Jeffrey did not wake, just continued to mutter. Owen could make out, "Bogg," and "where are you?" He touched Jeffrey's face and found it burning with heat. "Fever," he whispered.

There was no question now but that he had to get Jeffrey home to his mam, but how? Looking around, he saw that Jeffrey still had a supply of the vines he had used to lash his pallet together. He decided that he could make a frame from branches tied together by the vines, and put Jeffrey and his pallet on it. Then he could drag him home. He quickly gathered branches and put his plan in action.

As he dragged Jeffrey's pallet onto his wooden construct, Jeffrey opened his eyes. "Owen?" he said, his voice weak and raspy.

Owen swiftly knelt beside him. "Jeffrey, I know you don't want to go, but I have to take you home with me. You are sick. You need shelter and food."

"But Bogg – " Jeffrey began.

"I don't care about Bogg!" Owen exploded. "I can't sit here and watch you die! If I have to tie you up and drag you all the way, you are coming with me!"

Jeffrey began to cough, gut-wrenching coughs that rattled in his chest. When he was finally able to take a breath, he said weakly, "I'll go but you have to do something for me first."

Jeffrey had Owen gather large rocks to make a cairn high enough to be easily seen and top it with a large flat rock. He instructed Owen how to use smaller stones to make a direction arrow pointing to the mountain pass that led toward Owen's home and to use more stones to make a "J" under the arrow. He elicited a promise from Owen that he would build another cairn at the top of the pass to point the way to Owen's home.

"I promise," Owen said anxiously. "Now let me get you situated so we can get started."

"I can walk," Jeffrey said stubbornly, standing up and swaying.

"All right, all right, whatever you say," Owen said, slipping an arm around his waist. "Put your arm over my shoulder. And I'll still drag this carrier behind us just in case."

As the boys made their way to the top of the pass, Owen's admiration for Jeffrey's courage and determination grew, but even that courage and determination couldn't take him any further and he suddenly collapsed. Owen managed to catch him and lowered him onto the pallet. Although he hated to take the time, Owen was mindful of his promise to Jeffrey and quickly built another cairn with a direction arrow and "J" pointing toward his home.

It took Owen all afternoon to drag Jeffrey across the uneven ground. He prayed he was not hurting him. Finally he saw his home in the distance, with his mother standing anxiously by the door. "Mam!" he yelled, waving to get her attention.

Calling over her shoulder for Gareth to watch the baby, Blanche ran toward Owen. "I got him, Mam," Owen said, "but he's really sick."

Blanche knelt over the pallet and felt Jeffrey's forehead. "The poor child!" she exclaimed. "Can you make it to the house, Owen? I'll run and get a bed ready for him."

Inside the house, Blanche and Owen managed to get Jeffrey onto the hut's only bedstand. Blanche quickly stripped him of his wet clothes and tucked him under warm blankets. Jeffrey never even opened his eyes but lay still and pale except for the hectic splashes of fever coloring his cheeks. Finally, Blanche leaned back and told the frightened boys standing silently nearby, "He's very sick. We will have to keep careful watch over him, and try to get him to drink some broth and some water. You can all help me."

The next few days saw little improvement in Jeffrey's condition. He never fully gained consciousness, although he opened his eyes a few times, and his coughing grew worse. His chest was congested and it was difficult for him to breathe. The fever dragged him into nightmares of endless searching for Bogg. It broke Blanche's heart to hear his plaintive cries for his friend.

Owen slept beside him at night. One night, Jeffrey began coughing so hard that he was losing his breath. Owen was frightened and was about to wake his mother when she appeared beside him. She lifted Jeffrey into a sitting position and held him upright with one hand while she pounded on his back with her other hand. "Owen, get a bowl," she said. "Hold it under his mouth."

Owen rushed to follow her instructions and the next time Jeffrey coughed, he coughed up a fair amount of phlegm. Through the night, Blanche and Owen took turns holding him up and pounding on his back until he had coughed up even more. Toward dawn, Jeffrey opened his eyes. Blinking blearily, he focused on the boy beside the bed and said, "Owen? Where are we?"

"This is my house, Jeffrey, and this is my mam," Owen said. "I had to bring you here, you were so sick. But I built the signals for Bogg, remember?"

Jeffrey turned his head toward Blanche. "Thank you," he said faintly. "I'm sorry to be so much trouble."

Blanche carded her hand through his sweat-soaked curls. "It is no trouble, Jeffrey," she said. "Just sleep now and get better." Jeffrey's eyes closed and he dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep.