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diff --git a/old/54994-0.txt b/old/54994-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d3cc71d..0000000 --- a/old/54994-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7687 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Squib and His Friends, by Evelyn Everett-Green - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Squib and His Friends - -Author: Evelyn Everett-Green - -Release Date: June 28, 2017 [EBook #54994] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SQUIB AND HIS FRIENDS *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, readbueno and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - SQUIB AND HIS FRIENDS. - - -[Illustration: - - “_Squib flung himself upon the dog, and threw his arms about his - neck._” - - Page 17. -] - - - - - SQUIB AND HIS FRIENDS ❧ BY E. EVERETT-GREEN - - - LONDON, EDINBURGH, - AND NEW YORK - THOMAS NELSON - AND SONS - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - I. “THE ODD ONE,” 9 - - II. GOING AWAY, 28 - - III. THE CHALET IN THE HILLS, 47 - - IV. THE LITTLE GOAT-HERD, 65 - - V. COMRADES, 84 - - VI. HERR ADLER, 102 - - VII. HAPPY HOURS, 124 - - VIII. A WONDERFUL WALK, 148 - - IX. A STORY AND A FAREWELL, 175 - - X. A MOUNTAIN STORM, 204 - - XI. PLANS AND PROJECTS, 221 - - XII. FAREWELLS, 238 - - XIII. GOING HOME, 256 - - XIV. CONCLUSION, 272 - - - - - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. - - - “SQUIB FLUNG HIMSELF UPON THE DOG, AND THREW HIS ARMS _Frontispiece_. - ABOUT HIS NECK,” - - “SQUIB LISTENED WITH A STRANGE SENSE OF FASCINATION,” 68 - - “BREATHLESSLY ONE BOY WORKED AND THE OTHER WATCHED,” 94 - - “DOWN, DOWN, DOWN—WITH A CRASH, AND A BANG, AND A 169 - ROAR!” - - “SEPPI DREW SQUIB’S HAND DOWN UPON THE HEAD OF MOOR,” 254 - - “SQUIB’S BROTHERS AND SISTERS REJOICED OVER THE PRETTY 283 - GIFTS HE HAD BROUGHT THEM,” - - - - - SQUIB AND HIS FRIENDS. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - “THE ODD ONE.” - - -That was the name Squib went by in the nursery and in the household—“the -odd one.” Not exactly because of any personal peculiarities—although he -had a few of these—but because he had no especial brother or sister -belonging to him, and seemed to stand alone, whilst all the others could -be paired off together. - -Norman and Frank were big boys, away at school most of the year, near to -each other in age, and always together in the holidays. Philippa and -Molly came next, and were girls, devoted to each other and to their -family of dolls, and even more devoted to the live dolls in the -nursery—the little twin sisters, Hilda and Hulda, whom nobody knew apart -save themselves and the nurse. But Squib had no brother or sister to be -bracketed with him. The baby who came next in age to him had died in -infancy, and was only a dim memory to the brother just above him in age. -So he had always been, as it were, “the odd one” of the family, although -his sisters were very fond of him, and never refused him a share in -their games when he wanted to join in them. - -But Squib did not care for dolls, and his tastes lay amongst things -beyond the walls of nursery or schoolroom. He wanted always to be out of -doors when not busy with his lessons for Mademoiselle (for so far he had -not gone to school, but had been taught with his sisters in the -schoolroom); and his pursuits were not of a kind to be attractive to the -dainty little ladies, Philippa and Molly, or to find favour in the eyes -of nurse, who reigned supreme over Hilda and Hulda. So Squib got into -the way of amusing himself in his own fashion, and took his name of “the -odd one” with great equanimity. - -Squib was not his real name, as I suppose I need hardly say; it was a -nickname given him by his father some years before my story begins, and -it had stuck to him ever since. His real name was Sydenham, and he had -been called Syd for a time, till Colonel Rutland had hit upon this other -appellation. - -And the reason for this was a habit of Squib’s which amused his father a -good deal. The child had a way of sitting perfectly still and silent for -a very long time in the room, not speaking, even when spoken to, until -some exhaustive mental process had taken place, after which he would -suddenly “go off,” as his father expressed it, and talk rapidly and -eagerly for several minutes straight on end; then having thus relieved -his mind and delivered himself of his thoughts, he would relapse into -dead silence until ready for the next explosion. And so his father -called him “Squib;” and Squib he became in time to the whole household. - -It was commonly whispered about the place that Squib was the Colonel’s -favourite amongst his children. Colonel Rutland was not a man who had -taken a great deal of notice of his sons and daughters as they appeared -upon the scene. He was a busy man, having a large estate to order, being -a magistrate, churchwarden, and guardian of the poor-law, and having -social duties to attend to as well. He was a most devoted husband; and -people used to say that never was there a happier couple than he and -Lady Mary, his beautiful wife. He was proud of his fine young family in -the aggregate, but did not notice the children very much individually, -until one or two small incidents brought Squib before his eyes. - -The first of these was a severe altercation which he chanced to overhear -between the child and his nurse when Squib was five years old. He was -walking through the shrubberies one morning when the sound of raised -voices attracted his attention, the first being that of a child lifted -in indignant protest. - -“It’s not a lie. I never tell lies! I _did_ hear father sing it his own -self!” - -“Master Syd, that’s not true. Your father never would sing such a wicked -song. It only makes it worse, telling stories about it!” - -“It isn’t a story!—it isn’t, I tell you! I heard him my own self, and -lots of other people heard him, too. It’s you who are wicked, saying I -tell lies and father sings wicked songs!” and the crunch of the gravel -betrayed the fact that Squib had brought his small foot heavily down -upon it in a stamp of passionate wrath. - -Colonel Rutland turned a corner and came full upon the combatants. The -nurse—a most excellent and trustworthy woman, who had been for twelve -years with them—was looking very grieved and disturbed as she held Squib -by the hand, as if with the intention of taking him at once before some -domestic tribunal; whilst the child’s square, determined face was -flushed a deep crimson, his dark-grey eyes looked almost black, as they -had a way of doing in moments of passion and excitement, and his whole -frame was quivering with anger and protest as he reiterated his -assertion that he was speaking nothing but the truth. - -“What is all this?” asked Colonel Rutland in a deep voice. “Squib, what -do you mean by resisting your nurse like that? I will have no -insubordination to authority in my house—you know that as well as I do.” -For Colonel Rutland, with his military training, was a martinet in his -house about discipline, and his children knew perfectly that he would be -more severe over an act of disobedience than over any other kind of -transgression. - -Squib and the nurse both started at the sound of the Colonel’s voice, -and nurse dropped the hand she was holding and made a respectful -courtesy to her master. Squib stood perfectly silent, after his fashion, -for a full minute, and then burst into rapid speech,— - -“I wasn’t resisting her, father. She told me I was telling lies—and I’m -not. You did sing it. I heard you; and it isn’t wicked—and she didn’t -ought to say it was. I don’t tell lies. I never did. It isn’t lies—it’s -only about them!” - -The Colonel held up his hand to command silence. - -“What does all this mean?” he asked, turning to nurse. - -“If you please, sir, I heard Master Syd singing something that didn’t -sound right for a young gentleman, and when I told him I wouldn’t have -wicked words sung, he turned and said that he’d heard you sing them, -which I was quite sure was not true, and I told him so. And then he went -off into one of his tantrums—which I hoped he was learning to get better -of—and that’s all I know about it. But I am quite sure he is not -speaking the truth.” - -“Leave him to me and I will get at the rights of the matter,” said the -Colonel; and nurse, who had an ailing baby indoors (Squib’s little -brother who shortly afterwards died), was glad to go in to see after -him, leaving Squib and his father to settle things together about the -song. - -“Now, Squib,” said Colonel Rutland, with grave severity of manner, “let -me hear the whole truth of this from you. What is it you were singing? -Don’t be afraid to speak the truth.” - -“I’m not afraid a bit!” cried Squib, after his habitual pause. “I’ll -sing it to you now. _You’ll_ know it—it’s your own song,” and taking a -deep breath and swelling himself out in unconscious imitation of a -singer about to commence his song, the child broke out with the -following words, sung in a deep voice as like that of a man as he could -achieve— - - “Fi-ive del dies— - The father of lies!” - -And then suddenly breaking off he looked up at his father and cried,— - -“You know you did sing it yourself, father—so it can’t be wicked!” - -The Colonel was puzzled. There was something in the rhythm of the notes -that was familiar to him; but what could the child mean? How had he got -hold of those absurd words, and what was in his head? - -“When did you hear me sing it, Squib?” he asked, still not permitting -his face to relax. - -“Why, father—you know—when all those people came, and you read such a -lot of funny things in turn in the drawing-room and sang songs. There -was another song about ‘Ban, ban, Ca-Caliban’—you _must_ remember; but -it was you who sang about the father of lies, and it can’t be wicked if -you did it, though nurse does say so!” - -Colonel Rutland broke into a sudden laugh. The whole thing flashed -across him now. From time to time in that neighbourhood there were -gatherings generally known by the name of “Shakespeare readings”—friends -meeting together at one another’s houses to read a play of the great -dramatist’s, the parts being allotted by previous arrangement. Not very -long since “The Tempest” had been read in this way at Rutland Chase, and -the children had been allowed to come into the room for part of it. It -was just the kind of thing to fascinate Squib, and perhaps he had -succeeded in hiding away and being up longer than was known. At any -rate, he had evidently heard his father sing the well-known song— - - “Full fathom five, - Thy father lies;” - -and, with the capricious alchemy of a child’s mind over anything not -understood, had transformed it to the version which had aroused the ire -of his nurse. - -Something in this little incident tickled the fancy of the Colonel and -attracted his attention towards Squib, who had always amused him when he -had had time to notice his children; and the bond was more closely drawn -between them by two little incidents which occurred, one after the -other, during the ensuing year. - -The first of these had reference to a very fine Russian wolf-hound, -which had been presented to Colonel Rutland a short time before. It was -an animal almost as big as a calf, of a slate colour merging almost in -black, with a head very broad across the brows, and a voice like a -church bell. He was a very magnificent animal, but he had a fierce -temper, and made few friends. Colonel Rutland was one of these few, but -even he did not feel that he had the dog very well under control, and -always took him out with a certain sense of misgiving. - -One of the chief difficulties with regard to the creature was that he -was so fierce when chained up that it was hardly safe to approach him, -either to give him his food or to let him loose when the time for his -daily run had arrived. Colonel Rutland was having a place made for him -where he could be shut up without being chained, which he hoped would -tend to the humanizing and taming of him; but, meantime, he had to be -fastened up in the yard when not at large, and Colonel Rutland made a -point of both chaining and loosing him himself—although it was not -without misgiving that he approached the great brute straining on his -chain, and glaring out at the world with red, defiant eyes. - -One day, as he was approaching the kennel, liking the looks of the dog -rather less even than usual, he stood meditating at a short distance as -to whether it were really safe to keep such a fierce animal on the -premises, and whether he might not be running a foolish risk in going -near him. He was startled by the sound of a small voice proceeding from -an invisible questioner quite near at hand. - -“Father,” said the little voice, “shall I let Czar out for you?” - -Colonel Rutland looked up, and looked down, and looked round about him, -and again came the sound of the small voice, saying,— - -“I’m in Czar’s kennel, father.” - -The Colonel had certainly never thought of looking in such a place for -the speaker. Now, turning his startled glance in that direction, he saw -Squib sitting curled up on the clean straw in the huge kennel, looking -out from his nest with a friendly smile. - -For a moment the fathers heart stood still. Suppose the great brute -should turn and see him! It was with difficulty he commanded his voice -to say quietly, whilst himself striving to attract the notice of the -dog, “Come out, Squib; come very quietly.” - -But the child never heard the last words; he jumped up at once and made -an outward bound, flinging himself upon the dog as he did so, and -throwing his arms about his neck. - -“Oh, father, if you would only let me have Czar to go out with me -sometimes! We should have such fun together!” - -At the touch of those small childish hands the aspect of the dog changed -at once. The lifted crest along his back smoothed down, the red light in -his eyes changed altogether, the fierce bay ceased, for the creature was -engaged in licking the child’s hands and face, and in fondling him with -evident delight. The father looked on in amaze, and when Squib repeated -his question, “Shall I let him out now?” he gave his assent rather by -sign than by word, so great was his surprise at what he saw. - -“Oh, father, _may_ I go with you?” pleaded Squib, with great, wistful -eyes. “I’ve never been out with Czar yet—and I should so like to!” - -His father held out a ready hand. - -“Come along, my little man. We will go together. How came you and Czar -to be such friends? I did not know he had made real friends with anybody -yet.” - -Squib did not immediately answer; he was watching the gambols of the -great dog careering round and round them in wide circles—a thing he had -never done before when out with Colonel Rutland, always making a rush -ahead, and only coming reluctantly to his side when called with -authority. Whenever Squib held out his hand, Czar made a dash at him and -licked it; and once the child jumped upon the great creature’s back, and -Czar took him for a breathless scamper across the park—Squib holding on -like a little monkey; and only when he had come back and was holding his -father’s hand again did he “go off,” and enter into explanations of this -strange friendship. - -“You see, father, it was like this—Czar had nobody to love him. They -were all afraid of him. I saw coachman give him his supper one day—he -had the stable broom, and he pushed the pan to Czar with it, and never -even gave him a pat, or said a kind word to him. And it _did_ seem so -hard! So when he was gone I just went up and patted him as he was eating -his great bones, and then I sat just inside his kennel and talked to him -all the time, and made it sociable for him; and he brought me the -biggest bone of all, and I pretended I liked it very much, and then I -gave it him back and he lay down and ate it, and I stroked him and -talked to him all the time. He is such an interesting dog to talk to -when you know him. And after that I went every day, and—when I can—I -give him his food, and we always have a great deal of conversation, and -it isn’t nearly so dull for him as it was at first. But I’ve never been -able to go out with him, because coachman says I mustn’t loose him. But -we’ve always longed to take walks together, and if you say we may, it -_will_ be so nice.” - -Colonel Rutland listened to all this with something of a shiver. He had -not lived all this while without having known many instances of the -wonderful understanding between children and animals, or of the -forbearance shown often by the fiercest creatures to confiding little -children; but, nevertheless, he could not picture the first approach of -his small son to that great fierce dog in the midst of his bones without -a tremor of thankful relief. Now it was abundantly evident that an -excellent understanding existed between them, for Czar would come at the -least sound of Squib’s voice, and, when bidden to do so, would walk just -behind him with docile submissiveness. The conquest made by the little -boy, quite unconscious of conquest, was complete, and never had the -Colonel felt so secure of training the dog and humanizing him as he did -that day. - -“If I let you take Czar out into the park every day for an hour, Squib,” -he said presently, “do you think you can teach him to be more gentle and -obedient?” - -“Oh, father, I think I can,” answered the child with brightening eyes. -“I’ll explain everything to him so carefully—about being obedient and -all that. I think he wants to be good—only he’s got nobody to teach him -and be good to him. But I should like to teach him. I’m sure he has a -very good heart, and he understands what I say, I’m quite sure.” - -So the experiment was tried, and with signal success. The fierce dog -became gradually tamed and dependable, and a fresh link was formed -between Squib and his father. - -Later on in the same year another incident occurred which increased the -Colonel’s interest in “the odd one” of the family. - -Like most country gentlemen of some leisure, Colonel Rutland was fond of -hunting, although he could not give the time to it that some of his -friends were able to do. Still, he had always one, and sometimes two -hunters in his stable, and at this time, when Squib was just six years -old, his favourite was a horse of the name of Charger, upon whom he had -hunted three seasons in succession. - -Charger had something of a history of his own with which Squib was not -unconnected. Three years before, when the horse was five, and Squib -three, the former had been brought up for Colonel Rutland’s inspection, -as the owner desired to sell him. He was then only just broken, for he -had done no work as yet, the farmer who owned him having wished to let -him run as long as possible, and then to sell him to some of the gentry -as a hunter and weight-carrier. He was a very beautiful creature, with a -grand shoulder and very strong hind-quarters, legs as sound and fine as -the huntsman himself could wish to see, and a well-turned head and -gentle eye. The Colonel and his wife and some of the children all -assembled at the front-door to examine and look at the horse, who stood -pawing the gravel, seeming as if he knew perfectly the commotion his -beauty and strength were exciting. There were several guests in the -house who knew something about horses, and a great deal of conversation -was going on after the animal had been walked, and trotted fast, his -hoofs examined, and his eyes well peered into. He was growing rather -restive now with all the waiting and testing, but was standing pretty -quietly, held by the farmer, when suddenly little Squib, who was always -very fond of animals, and seemed not to know the meaning of fear, ran -forward from the group about his mother, and clasped his arms tightly -round the hind leg of the young horse, laying his cheek against it with -that caressing movement so common in little children. - -A sudden hush fell upon the whole group—every man among them afraid to -move or speak lest the horse should be frightened and kick out, as it -seemed impossible that he should not do at that strange touch upon his -leg. But the creature turned his head round, looked at the little, white -clinging figure, and stood perfectly quiet under the unwonted caress. -The next moment the Colonel had caught up his daring little son, and one -of the gentlemen standing by said to the farmer with a short laugh,— - -“I think you may take the horse round to the stables now; he has won -himself a home here, or I am much mistaken.” - -So Charger stayed, and never a horse was better worth his money, as the -Colonel often said. He was so gentle that Lady Mary herself sometimes -rode to hounds upon him by her husband’s side, and so strong and clever -and enduring that the Colonel could have sold him for almost any money -in his own county if he had wished to part with him. - -As for Squib, although he did not long remember the exploit of which he -had been guilty that day, the story was often told in his hearing, and -it seemed to make a bond between him and Charger which was closer than -between him and any other horse, although the child was fond of them -all. He was fonder of Charger than of his own little Shetland pony, -although Shag was a great friend and favourite. But Charger was so -sensible, so kind, so friendly, and so big! There is always an -attraction to a boy of native courage in the sensation of being mounted -on a big horse. Often and often, when the great hunter was saddled and -about to be brought round to the door, Squib would plead to be allowed -to ride round upon him, and though on these occasions coachman himself -would take the bridle and not permit any one else to superintend the -child’s feat, it was accomplished again and again without any danger; -for Squib had ridden his own pony bare-backed from the time he could get -his small legs across the broad back, and was a veritable monkey for -sticking on the back of anything with four legs. - -But during this particular autumn, when Squib passed his sixth birthday, -and Charger was “rising nine” as coachman called it, one of those sad -mischances befell him which are unfortunately only too common with good -hunters. He was carrying his master in his own gallant fashion over some -very slippery, sticky ground, when, in alighting after a fine leap, he -came down upon a treacherous bit of ground where the foothold was very -bad. With an effort which seemed to imply that he was thinking first of -his rider’s safety and second of his own, he avoided the fall which -seemed for a moment inevitable, but he slipped badly and only recovered -himself after a violent struggle. Colonel Rutland sprang safely to the -ground and helped the gallant animal to get a better footing; but all -this was not accomplished before Charger’s shoulder was badly strained, -and he had to be laid up in a loose box and carefully doctored for many -months before any one could think of riding him again. - -Squib was constant in his attentions to the disabled favourite all that -time, and he and Charger and Czar spent many a happy morning in the -paddock together, where Charger was turned out for an hour or two on -warm days “to exercise hisself” as the groom called it. Squib also made -great friends with the veterinary surgeon who attended Charger, and who -would tell him stories of animals by the hour together; and it was from -him that Squib first heard the bad news about the poor hunter. - -“He won’t never be good for hunting again, nor for that matter for -riding either. That shoulder will always be weak. He might drop on it -any time sudden like, and nobody cares to ride a horse like that. The -only thing now is to break him for harness if it can be done; but he’s -old to take to collar-work—more likely it’ll just break his heart -instead, poor fellow!” - -The tears rose in Squib’s eyes as he heard these words. - -“They shan’t break Charger’s heart!” he cried indignantly. “I’m sure my -father will never allow it.” - -“Well, sir, I hope not, for I don’t think that horse’ll ever break, for -all he’s so gentle and quiet. He’s got a spirit of his own, he has; and -when a creature has never had a collar over his head up to nine year -old, why, they don’t take kind to it, they don’t!” - -Soon it became known that poor Charger’s hunting days were over, and it -was quite a trouble to all the household to think that the master could -never ride him safely again. Then came the question of breaking him for -harness, but the few attempts that were made did not encourage the -authorities to persevere. - -“He throws hisself about so, sir,” coachman would explain to Squib. -“He’s not used to it, and don’t know what it means. He comes from a race -of hunters, and don’t have them family feelin’s as some young hacks do, -as takes the collar like mother’s milk as you may say. He’ll only wrench -his shoulder again, and go lame all his life; and that would be a sad -pity, seeing as how well he is now.” - -And then it was that a sudden inspiration seized upon Squib. He went -straight from coachman’s presence to his father’s study, and stood -silently beside him as he wrote busily before his table. But when the -Colonel presently looked up, as if to intimate that he was ready to hear -what his small son had to say, Squib “went off” with unwonted vehemence. - -“Father, you know about Charger. Coachman says he won’t break, and Mr. -Young said he would only break his heart. I don’t want his heart to -break. He’s the nicest horse that ever lived, and I can’t bear it. -Father, didn’t I hear you say that Shag was getting too old to do -anything but mow the lawns, and that you must look out for a new pony -for me by the time I was seven?” - -“Yes, Squib, I think I did. Would you like a little Exmoor? They are -very sure-footed and generally fast.” - -“I don’t want an Exmoor, father. I don’t want a pony at all. I want -Charger instead.” - -“Charger!” - -“Yes, father. Charger could carry me. Coachman says it’s no more for him -than a fly on his back. He’d be just as if he had nobody, and I’ve -ridden him lots in the paddock. He likes it, and I like it; and he’d be -nice, and safer for me than any pony, because he knows the country; you -say so yourself, and he’s so good, even mother wouldn’t be frightened to -let me go out on him. Father, I’m rising seven—that’s what coachman -calls it. I’m rising seven, and I never fall off anything. Let me have -Charger instead of a new pony. I shall like it so much better, and so -will he!” - -Something in the notion tickled Colonel Rutland’s fancy, and a little -conversation with coachman convinced him that there would be no risk of -damage either to the child or to the horse in such an arrangement. The -strong trustworthy hunter would carry the light weight of the small boy -without the least fear of renewing the strain; and as Squib said, he had -a remarkable knack of sticking on, whilst he had “hands as any horse -would be proud to answer to,” as the old coachman put it. And so his -request was granted. The faithful old hunter was neither shot nor broken -to uncongenial toil, but was gently and regularly exercised by the -little fellow on the turf of the park, or permitted to trot steadily -along the roads with his light burden, by the side of the Colonel on his -own horse. - -Squib was delighted, and his father amused, by the arrangement and the -comments it provoked. The trusty horse justified all the confidence -placed in him, and a stronger bond of friendship was thus established -between the child and his four-footed friend, as well as between him and -his rather stern and commanding father. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - GOING AWAY. - - -And now, having introduced my little hero to you, I will lose no more -time, but commence the story I have to tell of one particular year of -his life. - -Squib was by this time “rising nine,” as he generally liked to call it. -His next and ninth birthday would be in August, and this was May, and at -Michaelmas he was to go to school, to his own mingled pride and regret. -He enjoyed the thought of being a schoolboy, of gaining the independence -and importance that always seemed to attach to his elder brothers from -the fact that they only spent the holiday months at home, and were so -much away at school; but he did not like to think of having to leave -Czar and Charger and all his numerous and peculiar pets. He was not sure -that any other person would understand how to manage them or to make -them happy, and it weighed on him sometimes to think that they would -miss him when he was gone. Still the thing would have to be done whether -he liked it or not, and Squib was resolving to take matters -philosophically, and look at things on the bright side as far as -possible. - -A little excitement had lately come into his life from the advent of a -new uncle from India, whom Squib did not remember ever to have seen -before. Uncle Ronald was their father’s youngest brother, and he had had -a bad attack of jungle fever, and was to spend two years in Europe. He -came straight to Rutland Chase, and Squib gave up much of his time to -the entertainment of this new uncle, who spent a good part of every day -in a long bamboo chair in the big hall, and seemed amused by the chatter -of his small nephew. Squib felt it the more incumbent upon him to look -after his uncle because his father was very busy, and his mother had -been ailing all the spring-time, so that there was often nobody else to -act as companion to this other invalid—who did not, however, seem to be -suffering from anything worse than a little lassitude and languor. Still -the doctor came regularly to see both him and Lady Mary Rutland, and one -day as the little boy was perched up in the window seat of the big hall, -getting up a lesson for Mademoiselle and keeping an eye upon Uncle -Ronald at the same time, something very interesting happened. - -It was a beautiful warm day early in May, and father had been driving -mother out in the pony-carriage for the first time. As Squib was sitting -there, the carriage returned, and when Colonel Rutland led his wife into -the house the pair seemed to be discussing something very earnestly -together. Catching sight of his brother in his favourite chair, the -Colonel exclaimed,— - -“I say, Ronald, what do you think of a three months’ run to Switzerland. -We’ve just met Dr. Dawes in the village, and he says that’s what both -you and Mary want, to set you up again. I’ve not had a holiday myself -since I don’t know when. I’m half-bitten by the notion, and Mary is -quite on fire to be off!” - -“Oh, Bruce! I did not say that. I confess it has attractions for me; but -there is so much to think of. There are the children—” - -“Oh, the children will be all right! Mademoiselle will keep guard over -the girls, and as for the twins, why, they are as safe with nurse as -with us, and the boys are safe at school till the end of July, when we -shall be back. There’s only Squib, who might get into mischief if left -altogether to petticoat government, but I’ve half a mind to take the -child with us. His observations of foreign life would amuse us, and -can’t he speak German as well as French? I’m sure that Swiss nursemaid -of his taught him some barbarous patois of her own.” - -“Ah yes—Lisa; I’m afraid she did teach him some very outlandish -German-Swiss patois, if he hasn’t forgotten it by this time. I wonder if -he would like to go with us. I should enjoy having one child with me, as -you and Ronald are sure to go off mountaineering when he is stronger. -Only it would be a great interruption to his lessons.” - -“Oh, bother the lessons!” cried Uncle Ronald. “Squib knows as much as he -needs to make a good start at school—more than I did when I went, I -know. He’s a sharp little chap, and will soon pick up any lost time. -Let’s take him along by all means. I shall want an interpreter; I expect -Asiatic languages are more in my line than European. Squib shall come as -my interpreter. He speaks French first-rate, I know, and he’ll do all -the talking for me. Hallo! there he is! Come here, Squib, and tell us -how you’d like to go to Switzerland.” - -Squib came forward with eyes shining with excitement. Ever since he -could remember anything it had been his dream to go to Switzerland, and -he could hardly believe his ears now that he heard the thing spoken of -as an immediate prospect. Switzerland was as a dream to him—a dream of -wonder and enchantment. From his earliest infancy he had heard -entrancing stories of great, lonely snow-peaks, whispering pine woods, -little chalets perched high up in green alps, brawling torrents, great, -awful glaciers with dark mysterious crevasses, and spirits of the -mountains who revealed themselves only to those upon whom the spell of -the mountains had fallen. Crowds of images rose up in the child’s mind -as he slowly came forward, and the stress of his imaginative flights was -so great that it held him mute for a longer time than usual; but when he -did give expression to his opinion, it was with such enthusiasm and -emphasis that his father and uncle both laughed aloud, and it became a -settled thing from that time forward that Squib was to accompany the -party to Switzerland, whenever the start should be made. - -Squib, who was told that he might consider himself free of lessons from -this very day until he went to school in September, closed the book he -was still holding as though in a dream, and wandered out into the sunny -garden with a heart swelling with wonder and delight. - -Switzerland! He was really going to Switzerland! He should see with his -own eyes the dazzling snow peaks, hear the roar of the avalanches -breaking the eternal silence of those lonely valleys. He would see (as -he thought at least) the chamois springing from peak to peak, and hear -the yodeling of the peasants as they took their cattle up into the green -pastures. He would see it all—hear it all—all those things of which Lisa -had told him, of which he had dreamed until he seemed to be able to see -them at will when he shut his eyes. Perhaps he would even see Lisa again -herself; for had she not returned to Switzerland? And Switzerland was -such a little country on the map! - -Lisa had been Squib’s own peculiar attendant, and he had given to her a -very large slice of his childish affections. As has been said in the -preceding chapter, Squib had had a little baby brother when he was not -much more than a baby himself, and this little brother had been so -ailing that nurse had had to give up almost all her time to him, and so -Lisa—a young Swiss maid who was leaving a friend’s nursery just at that -juncture—was engaged to take entire charge of the elder little boy. - -Having once come in that capacity, she stayed on for many years—until, -in fact, Squib had no longer any need of a nurse; the delicate little -brother who died, and the little twin sisters who were still in the -nursery, had always occupied all nurse’s attention, and Lisa had been -retained year after year to attend to Master Squib, and to help with her -needle in the care of the little girls’ clothes. Lisa had loved Squib -from the first with a singular devotion, which he repaid by a warm -affection. He had learned to speak her curious patois as naturally as he -had learned the English of his parents and sisters, and it seemed as if -the power of using her native tongue again unsealed the silent Lisa’s -lips, for to Squib she would talk by the hour together of her country, -her home, her people, and all the glories and the wonders of that land -of mountains and wood and water whence she had come. She had much of the -imaginative temperament which is so often found amongst a mountain race, -and to her nursling she talked with the utmost freedom and unreserve. -Not only did she speak of the things she had heard and seen, but she -also told him long stories of fairies and water-spirits, genii of the -mountain, and the little brown men who dwelt in the caves and rocks, -till the child’s head was as full of enthusiasm as her own for her -native land, as crowded with fanciful imaginings as if he had been a son -of the soil himself. - -Lisa had now been gone for nearly a year, and some of these imaginings -had been growing a little faint and hazy; but they were all there, lying -dormant, and ready to wake into active life on the smallest provocation, -and as Squib wandered down the garden and into the yard, and found Czar -all ready to share his ramble and his talk, he poured a whole volley of -excited information into the dog’s ears, lapsing almost unconsciously -into Lisa’s German patois as he did so, which, however, seemed to make -no difference to Czar’s power of comprehension. - -The next days seemed to go by like magic. Squib found himself raised to -a position of some importance in the nursery, on the strength of his -approaching departure. The tailor from the next town called to measure -him for two new suits of clothes; his sisters made much of him because -they were so soon to lose him; and all the servants talked to him about -his journey, and called him a lucky little boy to be taken. - -It was rather hard to think of leaving Charger, who was such a very -great friend and companion; but coachman said that it would do Charger a -“world of good” to get a run out for two months, now that he was growing -elderly, and that pleased Squib a good deal, for he did not want his -favourite to miss him too much. - -“Maybe it’ll be a good thing though, sir,” said coachman, “since you are -going to school by-and-by. It will break him in to having you gone for a -spell, and he’ll kind of know that you’ll be coming back before so very -long. I’ll see he is well looked after, and he’ll be in first-rate -fettle for you by the time you get back.” - -The other trouble, about leaving Czar, was got over in a very unexpected -and most satisfactory way; for Squib was told one day that Czar was to -be taken with them to Switzerland. - -“The master said so himself,” the groom told Squib, when he came down to -loose him for his morning’s run. Czar was by this time a dog of mature -years, and he had tamed down wonderfully. Indeed, he was often left -loose during the day, and was allowed to lie on the terrace or patrol -the gardens. But he lived in his house at night, and several of the men -still stood in some awe of him: yet he was thoroughly under control now, -and a very valuable watch-dog and guard. He was still devoted to Squib, -and would obey him at a word or a look; but by this time he was attached -to all the family; and whenever the master of the house was away, he -slept indoors at the foot of the great staircase; and Lady Mary always -said that she never felt nervous when she knew that Czar was on guard. - -“You see, sir,” the groom added in explanation, “them furrain parts is -none too safe, what with all these bombs and one thing and another; and -the master says as hell feel more happy like to have the dog with him. -If so be as he were to go off hunting wolves or boars, or whatever they -may have over yonder, or leastways climbing mountains, where her -ladyship couldn’t go, he’d like to leave the dog behind to look after -the house; and so it’s all fixed now that Czar is to go.” - -This was great news for Squib, who quickly found his way indoors to make -sure of it. Uncle Ronald was in the hall looking at his guns, and he -gave Squib a friendly smile. - -“Oh yes, that’s all right enough,” he answered in response to the eager -inquiry. “You see we’ve heard of a chalet that will just suit your -mother, right up in one of those _thals_ as they call them, out of the -way of regular tourists, where the air is almost enough to keep you -going without the superfluities of meat and drink. It’s furnished -comfortably, too, which is a consideration; and there’s an old servant -you once had who will come and act maid to your mother, and help her -with the foreign ways of housekeeping—” - -“What! Lisa?” asked Squib breathlessly. - -“I think that was the name—anyway she was the girl who was your nurse so -many years. She’s going to come to be with you, and Mr. and Mrs. Lorimer -are going to come out with us and share the chalet. You know who the -Lorimers are, I suppose?” - -“Yes—they come every year to stay here. They are very nice. Mrs. Lorimer -is mother’s very great friend, I think. We all like her very much.” - -“That’s all right. I’ve heard as much myself. Well, Mr. Lorimer is a -great Alpine Club man, and no end of a mountaineer, and knows all the -passes and the peaks and the guides, and the ways of things; and we -shall go off from time to time with him and do some climbing, and then -your mother and Mrs. Lorimer will be left at the chalet with you for -their protector, and we thought that a dog like Czar would be a good -addition to the party; so it’s settled that he’s to go. That’s just -about how it is, you see.” - -“I see,” answered Squib, looking very thoughtful and contemplative, and -after a long pause he asked tentatively, “I suppose we couldn’t take -Charger with us too?” - -“I’m afraid not, old chap. Charger would be rather a large order; and I -don’t think we’d get him up to the chalet without a steam crane or some -trifle of that sort. Swiss Alps aren’t just cut out for English horses. -I’m afraid Charger must stay at home.” - -However, to have Czar was much, and Squib was very well content. Czar, -he had felt sure, would miss him more than Charger, for he was more with -him; and Charger had friends amongst all the stable hands, whilst Czar -was regarded with more fear than love in many quarters. It also pleased -Squib greatly to be told that on the journey Czar was to be his special -care. The party would travel leisurely and easily on account of Lady -Mary, and there would be a good many stoppages at various places before -they reached their destination. As they would have a carriage to -themselves almost invariably, it was probable the dog would be able to -share it with them; but at the stations and all such places Squib was -instructed to look after the creature, and have him upon his mind, as -there would be other things for the gentlemen of the party to think of. -Squib felt a great pride and satisfaction in this charge, and confided -all the arrangements to Czar, who heard them with great gravity. - -Time flew by so quickly that Squib was almost surprised to awake one -morning and find that it was really the day of departure. The start was -to be made in the morning. They were to go to London first, and lunch -there, and then take the train to Folkestone, where they would sleep and -be ready for the boat the next day. - -Squib had never been to London even, and his sisters, who had once spent -a week there, thought it a pity he would not be able to see the -Zoological Gardens, and the Tower, and Madame Tussaud’s. But Squib had -no room for regret on this score, he was in such a fever to see -Switzerland and Lisa again, and the mountains and glaciers and all the -wonders of his dreams. He felt very grand, dressed in his new travelling -suit of tan-coloured homespun—jacket, knickerbockers, cap, and waistcoat -all to match—and strong new stockings of the same shade, with new boots -strong enough for mountain scrambling. His sisters had joined together -in the purchase of a whistle on a chain, which they thought would be -very useful for calling Czar, if he should wander away in a new place; -and Squib wore it for the first time this morning, and felt wonderfully -grown up in doing so, for the steel chain looked like a watch chain, and -he almost felt as if he were wearing a watch all the time. - -The good-byes were rather hard to make, for the little girls all cried, -and Squib’s own eyes got very moist, and there was a great lump in his -throat which half-choked him, whilst everything looked misty and blurred -as he went about from one to another, promising to bring all sorts of -treasures back with him, and leaving last messages with almost -everybody. It made it all the harder because mother was almost crying -too as she kissed her little daughters, and left all sorts of last -charges with kind Mademoiselle; but Uncle Ronald went about laughing and -making jokes, telling his little nieces that they ought to be sent off -to India for an indefinite number of years to know what saying good-bye -was like; and as for getting up the waterworks because mother was going -for a few weeks to Switzerland, why, they were just little geese—he -couldn’t call them any better name than that! - -Uncle Ronald always made people laugh, and so the good-byes were got -over at last between smiles and tears, and then the party found -themselves skimming along the road to the station, with Czar running -silently along behind, more excited than usual, because he knew quite -well that something unwonted was afoot, although perhaps he had not -realized quite as clearly as Squib believed that he was on his way to -Switzerland. - -Squib’s first sight of the sea was at Folkestone, and very wonderful he -thought it. There was just enough breeze blowing to make the waves turn -over in great green breakers, and come crashing down on the shingle with -that strange sound which is like nothing else in the world. Colonel -Rutland indulged his little son with a ramble along the beach after tea, -and Squib enjoyed it greatly, especially sending Czar into the water -after his father’s stick, and his indignant barking at the crested wave, -which would not stop for all his barking, nor give back for a second -when he flew savagely at it. Other people besides Squib were entertained -by the conduct of the great handsome dog, and Squib was very well -satisfied with his first day’s travel. - -But the next one was far more exciting. - -They were actually to cross the water in the steamboat which was lying -moored alongside the great stone pier. Uncle Ronald took Squib down to -look at it some short time before they were allowed on board, and Squib -thought it a very wonderful vessel indeed, although Uncle Ronald laughed -and called it a “poor little tub,” which seemed a very disrespectful way -of speaking about it, Squib thought. - -When he was once safely on board, he made friends with the sailors, and -asked them a number of questions, and then went and looked down at the -great throbbing engines, and talked to a smutty man who seemed to know a -great deal about them, and who explained a great deal to him very -good-naturedly—only, unfortunately, Squib did not understand much better -at the end than he had done at the beginning. However, the man admired -Czar very much, and said it wasn’t often they saw such a fine dog as -that in foreign parts, he was sure; and that pleased Squib very much. So -he told his new friends all about his home and his sisters and Charger, -and how he was going to Switzerland for two months to take care of his -mother when his father went up mountains; and altogether the time passed -so quickly and pleasantly that he was quite surprised when the train -came puffing up, and everybody got busy, and he was taken away by his -uncle to watch the new people coming on board. - -Mr. and Mrs. Lorimer were amongst these, and Squib soon picked them out. -He did not, however, quit his post of vantage till he had seen all the -luggage swung on board by the great crane, which he thought very -interesting; and then he went to the very back of the boat where he had -seen a nice coil of rope lying, and scrambling up on this he found that -he was able to make a fine perch for himself, where he could see the -water and have a fine view of the boat, and watch the shore as it seemed -to slip away astern. - -There was rather a stiff breeze blowing when they got into mid-channel, -and the vessel rocked and rolled as the big green waves lifted her up -and let her down. Squib thought it better than any rocking-chair or -rocking-horse he had ever been on, but he noticed that some of the -people began to look very queer. A sort of green hue overspread their -faces, and then they generally retired from the scene, and he wondered -where they all went. Poor Czar, too, grew rather restless and unhappy, -and got up from beside Squib, and took a turn or two and then came and -lay down again, and looked up pitifully at his little master, as if -asking for sympathy. He did not seem able to get comfortable, and Squib -wondered what was the matter. - -“Oh, Lor’ bless you, little master, he’s only a bit sea-sick, just the -same as Christian folks!” said the kindly sailor whose acquaintance -Squib had made previously, and who chanced to pass along at that time. -“Like enough he’ll just be a bit sick, like the other folks, and then be -right again. It’s a queer thing when you come to think of it, -sea-sickness. But Lor’ bless you, nine-tenths of the folks as comes -aboard in bad weather can’t stand up against it. You don’t seem no worse -yourself though, little master.” - -“Oh no; I like it. I didn’t know what made them all look so queer. I -heard mother saying she was afraid it would be rough crossing, and that -she would be ill. I hope she isn’t.” - -Poor Czar, however, did not escape, and was very unhappy for a time, and -then quite ill; but the passage was quickly made, and once on firm -ground again he thought no more of his troubles. - -It amused Squib very much suddenly to hear everybody talking French, and -to see the men in their blue blouses, and the fisherwomen in their white -caps. - -“I wish they wore pretty things like that in England,” he thought as he -looked curiously about him, “and what a noise they do make; and how they -jabber, and laugh, and move their hands about—just like Mademoiselle -when she wants to make us understand. Oh, Uncle Ronald, are we going off -already? It is such fun watching the people! I think France is a very -pretty, funny country. Are we going to the Douane now? Mademoiselle told -me all about that. And shall I have to ‘declare’ Czar? Is he -contraband?” - -“I don’t think so, but you can ask if you like,” answered Uncle Ronald, -laughing. “Come along this way if you want to see the business. Your -father is going to the train with the ladies, and Mr. Lorimer will see -to the luggage.” - -“I should like to go too,” said Squib, keenly interested in the -proceedings; and accordingly his uncle led him into a great bare room -where luggage was being brought in on the shoulders of blue-bloused men, -and where officials were gravely asking questions over the counter on -which it was placed, and marking off with white chalk the piles of -luggage passed. Squib was greatly amused, especially when one man was -detected smuggling tobacco under a lot of books. They could not stay to -the end of the altercation, but the gestures of the French official -amused the child exceedingly, as well as the laborious efforts of the -Englishman to follow, and hold his own in conversation. - -Then there was a rush for the train, a confabulation with the -authorities about Czar, who was finally permitted to go in the carriage -with the party, Uncle Ronald feeling sure that the balance in his favour -was turned by Squib’s pretty childish pleading in French, and his -confidence that everybody must see the many perfections of his -four-footed friend. Perhaps the guard did not particularly desire the -companionship of the great hound; perhaps Colonel Rutland’s air of -_milord Anglais_ had due effect. Anyway, Czar travelled peacefully to -Paris with his owners, and was accorded a like privilege almost the -whole way through. - -Paris was very gay as the travellers drove through the streets to the -hotel in the Rue Rivoli, where Colonel Rutland always stayed. Lady Mary -was by this time very tired, and went at once to her room; but Squib was -immensely excited by everything, and very anxious to see at least one or -two of those sights of Paris over the description of which Mademoiselle -had so often grown excited; so Uncle Ronald good-naturedly volunteered -to pilot him, provided he would do the talking, to which Squib readily -agreed. - -First they had some lunch in the Champs Elysées under the trees, which -seemed to Squib such a superior arrangement, that he wondered why people -ever went indoors to eat. Then they visited the Louvre and spent an hour -there, after which a fiacre was chartered to take them to Notre Dame and -one or two other places of interest, which Squib felt much elevated by -having seen. But the real excitement of the day was when, in returning, -Uncle Ronald took him into a shop such as only Paris seems able to -produce, and after a great deal of laughing and chaffering with a -bright-faced French saleswoman, who was equally amused at Uncle Ronald’s -bad and Squib’s good French, a small silver hunting-watch was purchased, -together with a silver chain, and presented to the astonished Squib by -his young uncle. - -“Something to remember your first visit to Paris by, old chap,” he said, -as he led him back to the hotel, “and to tell you the time when you get -out amongst the mountains, and have nobody to remind you of it, and no -big gong carrying a mile to ring you in.” - -As for Squib, he hardly knew what to make of his good fortune, and his -thanks were so long in coming that it seemed as if Uncle Ronald would -have to go without them altogether; but, when they did come, it was with -a “chiff and a rush,” as he described it afterwards, which was in itself -enough to justify the sobriquet by which his small nephew went. Early -upon the following morning, the party started for their long journey -across France to Switzerland. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - THE CHALET IN THE HILLS. - - -“I don’t call France pretty at all, though Mademoiselle does call it ‘La -belle France,’” said Squib from his station at the carriage window, -after some hours of silent study. “It’s all flat like a map, and the -trees look as if somebody had gone round with an axe and taken all their -heads off when they were little, and the rivers look like canals. I like -the people and the animals. It’s nice of the cows to help in the fields -and to draw the wagons; and the dogs help too, which is very kind of -them; and I like the funny clothes the people wear. I should like a blue -blouse myself, when I get to Switzerland. But I don’t call it pretty at -all; not even the vineyards—and I always thought vineyards would be -lovely. England is much prettier—but there’s something funny and queer -about France, and that makes it interesting. I like the way they build -their châteaux—with such queer little pepper-box towers, and such a lot -of red roof. I should like to live in one of those little turrets -myself, and have a lot of animals there to keep me company. But I don’t -think there’s so very much in France that’s amusing.” - -Squib was keenly interested in all he saw, but his longing all the while -was for Switzerland, and the chalet in the hills of which he had heard -so much, and Lisa, who was to be waiting for them there, with her -stories of mountain-spirits and the water-fairies. He was almost sorry -when he found that a few days were to be spent at Interlaken before they -reached their final destination; yet as soon as they crossed the -frontier the sense of interest and delight awoke within him, and he had -no time for regrets or useless longings. - -Even the railway travelling was more amusing now—the little queer -carriages with a passage all down them, the blowing of horns when each -station was reached or left behind, the costumes of the peasants as the -travellers got more and more into the heart of the country, and the -increasing beauty and wildness of the views from the carriage window. - -It was dark when they reached Interlaken, and Squib had been for some -time asleep, leaning against his father’s shoulder. He did not remember -much about the arrival that night, nor how he got into that funny little -narrow wooden bed, with its big square pillows and little white -eider-down quilt. But after sleeping the sound, dreamless sleep of -childhood for a number of hours, Squib suddenly woke up very wide to -find the room bright with sunshine, and to realize, after a few moments -of utter perplexity, that he was really in Switzerland at last. With a -great throb of sudden excitement he got quickly out of bed and pattered -across the cold polished floor to the window. A white curtain was drawn -across it, but in a moment Squib had pulled this aside, and then he gave -one great gasp and stood perfectly still—a little white figure, with a -tumbled head of yellow-brown curls, and a pair of big grey eyes fixed -immovably upon something outside that window, as though they would never -be detached from the sight. - -And what was it that Squib saw? A great white dazzling peak rising up in -stately grandeur against the glorious blue of the summer sky. The -sunlight bathed it in golden light. In that wonderful brilliant -clearness of early morning, space seemed annihilated, and the grand -snow-peak seemed to Squib to be strangely near—keeping silent watch and -ward over the valley below and all the inhabitants of it. It was flanked -and supported, as it were, by a whole range of rocky, snow-crowned -mountains, yet seemed to stand alone, lifting its majestic head into the -very heavens. Squib stood and gazed with wonder, awe, and rapture, until -the scene was graven into his memory for ever. What Lisa had said about -the spell of the snow-mountains was all true. He had begun already to -feel it himself. He stood before the window lost to all sense of his -surroundings, hearing none of the sounds about him, knowing nothing of -where he was—eyes and heart and soul alike gone out to that lonely queen -of the mountains, standing out in dazzling radiance against the -brilliance of the morning sky. How long he thus stood he never knew, and -he was only brought back to the things of the present by the sound of a -laughing voice behind him. - -“Hallo, old chap!—lost in the clouds already? Has the Jungfrau bewitched -you altogether? Or are you ready for anything so sublunary as -breakfast?” - -Squib turned round with a jump to find that Uncle Ronald had come in -from his room next door, and to feel that his own cheeks were wet, just -as if he had been crying, and he was quite positive he had not even been -thinking of anything so silly! - -“Come, hurry up, youngster! You are late already; and we mean to go off -to Grindelwald after breakfast, so you must look sharp! Yes, she’s a -grand lady is the Jungfrau—she gets at all of our hearts in a fashion; -but hurry up now and come down to the breakfast-room. Mountain air gives -one a fine appetite, as you’ll find out before long.” - -Squib woke out of his dream only to find himself in a country of -enchantment. He hurried through his toilet, and descended to find his -party (with the exception of his mother, who was keeping to her room to -recover from the fatigues of the journey) seated at one end of a very -long table, of which they were the only occupants, and was soon seated -beside them discussing omelette and cutlet with fried potato chips, -queer curly rolls, and golden honey, with all the zest of a growing boy -and of a mountain traveller. Meantime he gleaned from the talk of his -companions that they were about to drive into the heart of some of those -mysterious regions of which he had hitherto dreamed, without daring to -hope to see them. The glacier at Grindelwald, the wonderful fall of the -Staubbach, the Wengern Alp, Lauterbrunnen and Mürren! He heard the names -in a vague and dreamlike fashion, but hardly knew what was settled, and -did not trouble to ask. What did it matter where they went in such a -region of wonders? Wherever they went, that great towering peak must be -near at hand, and if he had that to look at he felt he need ask no more. - -Three or four wonderful days were passed by Squib in this fairy region. -Each day the same carriage came to the door, with the same two strong, -small, but willing and active little horses. He was set on the box -beside the broad-faced driver, with whom he soon established terms of -mutual intimacy, and after a little while he found himself able to -exchange ideas with him with perfect freedom. He talked very much the -same odd guttural language that Lisa had spoken when she was excited and -in earnest, and in a very short time all Squib’s old fluency came back -to him. He was interpreter to the whole party, and not a little proud of -his position in that respect; but what he enjoyed even more was getting -Johann to tell him all about the mountains, the people who lived amongst -them, what they did in the long, dark winter months, when the snow came -down and shut them in week after week and month after month; how the men -in summer went out as guides and porters, and took travellers across the -passes and up the great white peaks; and how the women stayed at home -and tilled the land, and made provision against the winter season, -driving their flocks of goats out into the green hills, and making -quantities of cheese, some to sell and some to lay by to be consumed -when the dark, cold season set in. - -Johann had once been a guide himself, till a slight accident had -hindered him from any more mountaineering, and had obliged him to take -to the less exciting life of a driver during the busy summer season. But -Squib learned, to his deep excitement and delight, that his new friend -had twice made the ascent of the Jungfrau, and he made him give him -every detail of the climb, and listened with breathless interest to the -story each time it was related. - -Another friend Squib made at this time was an old man who stood at a -certain place in the roadway, where was a wonderful echo, and blew an -immense long horn whenever visitors passed, so that they could hear the -echoes reverberating and resounding backwards and forwards amongst the -hills, till it seemed as if there were hundreds of voices all answering -each other in weird cries. Squib could have listened to these echoes for -ever, and also to the stories the old man had to tell about the caves in -the hills, and the wonders of torrent and valley. He twice spent an hour -with him whilst others of the party were resting or sketching, and -having won the old man’s confidence, both by his talk and by the gift of -sundry coins, he was allowed to blow the great horn himself once or -twice, a thing which filled him with delight, although he did not find -himself very successful in bringing out the deeper and more powerful -notes as the old man was able to do. - -Of his wonder and awe at the sight of the great glacier and its blue -caves, or of those feelings which the sight of the dazzling snow-peaks -awoke within him, Squib never tried to speak. Those about him were not -even sure whether any very deep impression was made by them; but his -observations on the manners and customs of the country would come out at -intervals with a sudden rush, as when sitting at dinner on the eve of -their departure for the chalet, he suddenly broke out,— - -“I shall be sorry to go away for some things,”—this in answer to a -question from his mother—“though I want to get to the chalet very much. -But everything here is very funny and very interesting. I shall be sorry -not to have Johann and the horses any more. Will everything be as funny -up there as it is here?” - -“How is it all funny?” asked Uncle Roland. - -“Oh, every way, you know. But I was thinking of the horses just then. I -like the horses here, but I think it’s very confusing for them to have -to go the wrong side of the road always. I can’t think how they remember -so well. I think perhaps it’s because they grow their manes the wrong -side too—to help them to remember. Most of them have them manes on the -wrong side. I asked Johann about it, but he didn’t seem to understand -that it was wrong. I’m glad we didn’t bring Charger; he wouldn’t have -liked it at all. But the horses here don’t mind it. I think they are -very good-tempered. They have such kind faces, and they like to be -talked to. They don’t wear blinkers, hardly ever, except in the -carriages. I think that’s rather nice for them. They can see the country -as they go along. I wonder if they like seeing the snow-mountains very -much! I think it’s nice that they can look about them the same as we -do.” - -But after all, the pleasure and excitement of getting to their mountain -home was greater than anything else. It took the best part of a day to -reach it, because, although the distance was not very great, there was -no direct road, and they had to take a circuitous route, which Squib -found very delightful, though some of the party wished it had been a -little less tedious. - -First, there was a long carriage drive with Johann, behind a great -coach-like conveyance and four horses, through winding, ascending roads, -with the usual accompaniments of men with great horns, children selling -flowers, women at work by the wayside at their lacemaking, and all the -sights and sounds of busy little village communities making the most of -their short season of heat and brightness. - -Later on there was a short journey in one of those strange _funiculaire_ -railways, which were such a source of interest and curiosity to Squib. -The little trains seemed to him to crawl about the mountains like -gigantic serpents, moving silently upwards or downwards, quite -independent of the level which had been indispensable to the railway -travelling with which he had been previously acquainted. And the -sensation of mounting up and up in one of these silent, mysterious -little vehicles kept him spellbound with wonder and admiration. Uncle -Ronald had explained to him many times already the principle upon which -they were worked, but nothing seemed to him to lessen the sense of -mystery and unreality that attached to this mode of progression, as he -felt himself lifted higher and higher into those regions and altitudes -which fascinated him so strangely. - -When they left the train they found themselves in a region unlike any -that Squib had seen before. They were all amongst pine woods and those -green alps which lie beneath the sterner altitudes of the snow ranges, -and are full of flowers and sunshine, and the bleat of goats, and the -soft sound of wood and water. There was no regular road here to the -chalet, but only a mule path. Some mules were waiting in readiness for -the party, but only the ladies cared to ride. The baggage was cleverly -packed and strapped on the rest of the docile animals, and the march -began through these silent stretches of pine wood, and across bright -sloping meadows gemmed with flowers, now dipping downwards to cross a -plank-bridge through which the shining water could be seen foaming -beneath, now rising by many a zigzag upwards and onwards towards the -sloping shoulder of the hillside—onward, ever onward, each turn in the -path revealing new beauties, till at last the lad who was leading the -way rounded a corner in a woodland path, turned back with a broad smile -to Squib, who had kept near to him all the while, the faithful Czar -always at his heels, and pointing a little downwards and along the -hillside, he said,— - -“There!” - -Squib reached his side with a bound and looked. They were just clear of -the wood now, and were able to see plainly before them. They had crossed -the ridge of the hills they had been steadily mounting ever since they -left the rail, and now were able to look down into the valley on the -other side. - -What a valley it was! The sides were clothed with little woods, some of -fir trees, some of young forest trees, clad now in the tender tints of -early summer; at the bottom ran a leaping torrent of foaming water, -spanned by many a little frail plank-bridge giving access to the green -slopes opposite. And these green slopes were dotted with those little -low chalets which are used for the shelter of the flocks in bad weather, -and for the temporary abode of those who tend them there during the -brief summer of the mountains. Above these again lay grim stretches of -rock, seamed with dark fissures, and above that again the whiteness of -the everlasting snow, as the chain of dazzling peaks lifted itself -against the dark blue of the sky. - -Squib gazed and gazed with a sense of tremulous wonder and delight. It -seemed to him as if this quiet valley were the realization of all his -ideals ever since he had begun to think about his sojourn in -Switzerland. Wood and water, meadows bright with flowers, green alps and -snow mountains beyond! What could the child of man desire more? In one -place he could even see the green, mysterious depths of a glacier, and -as he stood watching and listening spellbound, the silence was broken by -the rumbling sound of the fall of an avalanche! Truly there was nothing -left for him to wish for! - -But the lad was hardly content with this long silence, and touched the -arm of the little boy. - -“There!” he said in his rude patois; “there is the place—look! That is -the house where the gracious lords and ladies are going.” - -Squib started into keen interest now. He had realized from the first -moment that this valley was the right one, but he had not had time to -think of the chalet itself in his joy at the surroundings. - -“Where?” he asked eagerly. - -The lad pointed again, and Squib then saw about a mile farther on, and -standing upon a little eminence of its own, with a belt of whispering -pines behind it, a chalet such as a wealthy man may build for himself as -a summer residence amongst the mountains, with the wide-peaked roof, -great overhanging eaves, light wooden exterior staircase, and all those -accessories in the way of balconies and so forth which tend to make -residence in such houses so delightful during the brief but hot summer -season of mountain regions. - -With a cry of delight and rapture, Squib sprang forward. He had walked -far already, but was not in the least tired. He saw before him the home -of his dreams, where Lisa was awaiting him, and without thinking of -pausing for the rest of the party to come up, he rushed helter-skelter -along the narrow mule path, with Czar tearing along beside him, bounding -on ahead in his excitement (caught from the child), and then rushing -back to see that all was well, and giving vent to a series of deep bays -that awoke the echoes in the silent valley. - -That sound was heard by a pair of listening ears within the walls of the -chalet. As Squib ran breathlessly onwards, he was aware that something -human in a fluttering dress, and with something white about the head, -was coming rapidly out towards him. In a few minutes, with a rapturous -cry, the warm-hearted little fellow had flung himself into the -outstretched arms of his ex-nurse. - -“Lisa! Lisa! Lisa!” - -“Liebchen! mein Liebchen!” - -As for Czar, he was as excited as anybody, and he remembered Lisa as -well as his little master. His great black muzzle was thrust between the -pair, and faithful Lisa, with a sound between laughing and weeping, -threw her arms about the great dog’s neck and kissed him between the -eyes. - -“Kaiser—the good Kaiser!” she cried. “And he knew poor Lisa too. Oh, the -good dog—the grand Kaiser!” - -Lisa always called him Kaiser. Squib had forgotten that till now, and -the familiar sound of it made him laugh with pleasure. - -“Oh, Lisa, it is so nice to see you again! I have been looking forward -to it all the time. Now take me in and show me the house. I don’t think -the others will be here just yet; the mules come so slowly up the -zigzags. Czar and I just came up straight with the boy, I was in such a -hurry to get here. I shall have time to see everything before the rest -come.” - -Lisa led the way back, holding Squib’s hand fast in hers, and hardly -taking her eyes from his face the whole time. As for Squib, he was -perfectly happy having his old nurse back again, answering her questions -about home, asking her innumerable questions himself about this valley, -and all the wonders and delights he knew it contained. - -The chalet itself was soon seen over. After the large house at home, and -the big hotels he had been in since, it seemed to the child quite a -little place, fascinating and attractive in its very smallness and queer -bareness, but soon seen and disposed of. The rooms were all spotlessly -clean, and the polished floors shone like mirrors. The balconies to the -rooms were the chief attraction to Squib; and he was greatly charmed at -finding that not only had his own little room one of these, but also -that it was provided with a tiny external staircase, by which he could -get in and out at will. He saw by Lisa’s face that she knew she had -prepared a pleasant surprise for him in this, and his bright smile and -hug of acknowledgment were ample reward. - -But it was the outer world that really fascinated Squib. The chalet was -very nice as the necessary home during his stay amongst the mountains, -but it was the mountains themselves that were everything to the -imaginative little boy—the mountains and the brawling torrents, and the -whispering woods and the flowers. He had seen gentians by the hundred as -he ascended by the mule path, and already he was planning how he should -make collections of all the Alpine flowers, pressing some in a book he -had brought for the purpose, and taking roots of others home to try to -make a bit of Alpine garden in his own special border. Squib was a born -collector and naturalist, as well as a dreamer of dreams, and had -collections innumerable at home. Lisa had always been his faithful ally -in days of old, keeping his rubbish carefully so that the head-nurse -might not order wholesale destruction, and she took as keen an interest -in the collections as Squib did himself. He knew that she would help him -now, and he soon saw that she knew where every flower of the hills was -to be found. - -Squib was positively radiant with happiness by the time the rest of the -party arrived, and was everybody’s assistant and messenger as the task -of unpacking and settling down was commenced. - -There were other servants in the house, but only Lisa knew anything of -English, and Squib’s fluency in the odd vernacular of the district was -very useful. He had made firm friends with everybody on the place before -the first evening had passed, and when they sat down at last to the -nondescript travellers’ meal that was like dinner and tea rolled into -one, Colonel Rutland looked across at his wife, who, tired, but smiling, -was seated at the head of the table and doing the honours of the simple -repast, and said,— - -“I think I did well to bring Squib along with us.” - -“He is very useful, a capital little interpreter,” answered Lady Mary -with a smile. “I was horrified once at the frightful jargon Lisa was -teaching the child to talk, and almost sent her away for it, fearing -that it would be the ruin both of his English and of his German, but it -has come in wonderfully useful now. They do not understand my German -half so well as his patois. And Lisa’s English has got very rusty.” - -It was very exhilarating to Squib to feel himself of use, and there was -nothing which he more desired than to win the approval of his beautiful -mother. Lady Mary was not one of those mothers who are always caressing -and fondling their children, and yet they loved her with an almost -adoring love, and desired her approval above everything in the world. As -she bent a soft, smiling glance on Squib when she spoke, he felt his -heart give a great bound, and slipping round the table till he reached -her side, he put his small hand gently upon hers. - -“I shall have to take care of you when father and Uncle Ronald go to -climb the mountains with Mr. Lorimer, shan’t I, mother? You see I _can_ -take care of you now, don’t you? I can be useful, and there will always -be Czar to keep away anybody who would frighten you. But I don’t think -there will be anybody to do that in our valley. I think the mountains -keep watch over it, as Lisa says, and keep the evil spirits out!” - -The mother, who understood the child’s mind best, smiled and kissed him -as she dismissed him to bed, for the time was getting on now, and the -long daylight fading. The gentlemen laughed and teased him a little -about his “queer fancies,” but Squib did not think them queer at all, he -was so sure that there was something personal and protective about those -white watchers opposite; and when he knelt to say his prayers that -night, he knelt where he had them full in view all the time. - -“They have been there always,” he said to himself, with a sensation akin -to awe, “just as they are now, with nothing between them and God. I -think He must have made them so grand and white and beautiful because He -liked to look at them, and if He likes to look down at them, why, it -must make them good!” - -There was something very grand and wonderful in the way those white -peaks stood out against the darkening sky in that clear transparent air. -A short time ago they had been dyed a wonderful rose pink, as they -caught the reflected glory of the setting sun; now they were rather grey -than red, with a look of almost awful aloofness and grandeur as they -stood up in their spotless whiteness and purity. - -And then as the child watched this change with a strange sense of -fascination, the great round moon rose slowly above the ridge, and at -once new beauty and grandeur were thrown over the whole world. Great -towering shadows seemed to be cast athwart the valley, and then the -snow-slopes began to glimmer and shine with a new and almost unearthly -radiance. Squib held his breath as he watched the moon rise over the -snow-covered ridge, and the transformation of those rugged peaks and -fissures into a new world of ebony and silver. - -How long he would have watched it, forgetting all besides, may well be -questioned, but he was quickly disturbed by an anxious voice,— - -“Liebchen!—Liebchen!—what art thou doing? Thou wilt catch thy death of -cold up here in the nipping mountain air!” - -And Squib was quickly caught up in a pair of strong arms and hustled -with ignominious rapidity into the queer little bed which seemed a -necessary part of Swiss life. - -But he was altogether too happy to be seriously ruffled by any such -summary proceeding; and all he did by way of retaliation was to keep -fast hold of Lisa’s hand and refuse to let her go till she had talked -him to sleep with the most entrancing of her stories of the mountains. - -[Illustration: - - “_Squib listened with a strange sense of fascination._” - - Page 68. -] - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - THE LITTLE GOAT-HERD. - - -Surely never had boy been so happy before as was little Squib in his -mountain home! - -He had perfect liberty to rove where he would, so long as he went -nowhere that Czar could not follow him. This stipulation, as Colonel -Rutland observed, would keep him from any precipitous ascents or -descents, and restrict his wanderings to safe paths; and the fidelity -and sagacity of the dog were quite to be trusted should the child lose -his way. Czar would be certain to bring him safe home again; but, -indeed, there was not much fear that Squib would lose his way. He had a -decided “bump of locality,” as Uncle Ronald called it, and the green -valley with its many attractions was a safe place for the boy to wander -in. - -For the first fortnight of his residence at the chalet, Squib had no -disposition to stray very far away. There were so many attractions close -at hand that it was needless to go far afield for his pleasures. Why, -just by climbing up through the meadows and wood behind the house you -could find more flowers than could be properly pressed and arranged in -many days—gentians, small and large, the delicate little soldanella with -its cyclamen leaf, the tiny and exquisite pinguicula with its fairy-like -white bloom, and the yellow anemones which made quite a carpet in one -little glade, hemmed in between the spurs of a dim fir wood. Then down -by the bed of the little brawling torrent, which was always racing and -tumbling down the hillside to join the wider river below, grew in -obscure and shady corners the golden auriculas with their graceful bells -and silvery leaves. As to the lower-lying meadows, they were glorious -with their wealth of many-hued flowers, the blue salvia, purple -crane’s-bill, yellow clover, the wild salsafy with its golden bloom, -that Squib believed to be a rudbeckia until somebody told him to the -contrary, and warned him against including it in his collection, as it -was a tiresome thing to have in the garden, and grew rampant and -masterful beyond bearing. The delicate Alpine roses, too, with their -white and yellow clusters of blossom, were a perfect delight to the -little botanist, and he hardly knew where to begin or where to stop in -digging up roots to be kept in his garden behind the chalet, ready for -final transportation to England. - -His mother took great interest in his flowers and plants, and Mrs. -Lorimer knew the names of almost all the Alpine plants, and whereabout -they grew, whilst Lisa was able to give him practical help in digging -and delving, and told him all sorts of stories about the different -properties of the herbs he sometimes brought home, and how they could be -distilled into Enzian-schnapps as she called it, though what sort of -stuff that might be Squib could never make out. - -And then there were all Lisa’s stories to be listened to again, with -even a greater sense of fascination here amongst the mountains -themselves than in the nursery at home. Why, the little men of the -mountains—the Bergmännlein, as Lisa called them—might have their caves -in the sides of any of these hills; and it always seemed as if everybody -who once strayed in there came out a hundred years older at the end of -what had seemed to him a very short time. Squib sometimes wondered with -awe if he would ever find his way accidentally into one of these caves -one day, and come back to find the chalet in ruins, the saplings grown -to monster forest trees, and the glacier rolled farther down into the -valley; for Lisa declared that it was always moving on—on—on-although -Squib found it hard to believe. - -Talking of the glacier always made Lisa speak of the Seligen Fräulein as -she called them—the ice-maidens, who loved to woo to sleep the unwary -travellers who trusted to their soft guiding voices, and let themselves -be lured from the path and down—down—down into some cold dim crevasse or -grotto whence no return could be made. Squib listened with a strange -sense of fascination as Lisa told him of these snow-white maidens with -shining eyes, and hair like powdered crystal, and how they sang to sleep -the victims they had lured to destruction, and how that sleep lasted for -years and years, and how the sleeper was found at last, still smiling in -his dreams, when, after many generations had passed away, the -ice-maidens would yield up their prey at a certain icy portal where the -river came rushing and sweeping out of a great green ice grotto, in -which the Seligen Fräulein were said to hold high revel. - -“And do they wake when they come out?” asked Squib with breathless -eagerness, but Lisa shook her head. - -“Na! na!—they never woke again. Nobody ever woke who had felt the kisses -of the ice-maidens. They were jealous—they would not have their captives -leave them for others. Na! na! It was an ill thing to get with the -Bergmännlein or the Seligen Fräulein. The little Herr must beware of all -such things.” - -How much Squib believed of all these mountain legends, and how much Lisa -herself believed, it would be hard to say; but the fascination of the -subject was the same, even though there might be a lingering doubt in -the mind both of listener and teller. The sense of something weird and -unseen, uncomprehended in these lonely mountain heights, grew upon the -child rather than diminished as he came to dwell among them. The legends -which had grown up in the mouths of the peasants were but the expression -of those feelings which life in such lonely heights cannot but -suggest—the sense of mystery and unreality, the consciousness of great -overwhelming forces at work, the existence of a spiritual and eternal -world just beyond the ken of human knowledge and experience. - -Often the talk between the pair would drift from the fanciful -superstitions of an imaginative peasantry to the region of the world of -spirits dimly indicated in Holy Scripture, and Squib would bring out his -little Bible and search there for such passages as seemed to give -glimpses into the unseen, and strive to translate them into the language -so much more familiar to Lisa. The book of the Revelation was now -studied by him with an interest it had never held for him before—though -like most children he had often read the mystic words with a strange -sense of fascination; but now, as he watched from some lonely knoll or -rocky height the gorgeous pageantry of the clouds, or the reflections -they cast upon the everlasting snows, he would almost think that he saw -the heavens opened and the armies of heaven riding forth on white -horses, conquering and to conquer. Or amid the wonderful lights of -sunrise or sunset, when the mountains glowed and burned with lambent -fire, and the sky was almost too dazzling for the eye to rest upon, he -would fancy that, far, far away in its golden depths, he could see the -great white gates of pearl, or even the shining city coming down out of -heaven, like a bride prepared for the marriage. - -But of these things he seldom spoke—perhaps because he had hardly words -in which to express them; and besides it was not often that he found -time for such solitary musings; for the days were very full of -occupation, and Squib might have been “made of gutta-percha,” as Uncle -Ronald declared he was, for his readiness to go everywhere and see -everything. - -So what with his own private botanizing excursions, and the walks he -took with father and uncle, the days seemed to race by almost faster -than he could count; and it was only when the three gentlemen had -departed for a mountaineering expedition that was likely to last for -some weeks, that Squib felt himself at leisure to go further afield and -explore the more distant parts of his valley. - -He had expected to be his mother’s companion now, but this expectation -was not realized. Not only was there Mrs. Lorimer to be with her, but a -party of friends from England, who were travelling about in the -neighbourhood, swooped down upon the chalet only the day after the -mountaineers had left, and they gladly accepted Lady Mary’s cordial -invitation to remain her guests there for as long a time as the vacant -rooms should be at their disposal. - -This sudden invasion made a great deal of difference to Squib’s plans. -He was no longer wanted as his mother’s companion. She was busy and well -looked after. Even Czar was not required now, when there were so many -people about—and, indeed, the valley seemed as safe as the house at -home, and the people far more honest; while all this company made the -servants busy, and even Lisa’s time was so fully taken up in attending -to so many ladies, that she had but little of it to give to the child, -and was glad for him to amuse himself in his own way. - -It was quite easy for Squib to do this. Indeed, on the whole (since his -mother really did not need him), he was very glad of the liberty he now -enjoyed to make long expeditions with Czar, and really explore the -valley from end to end. He would get something to eat packed in a little -satchel in the morning—Lisa always took care that it should be something -good, and that there should be plenty of it—and with this little satchel -slung on his back, and his iron-pointed stick in his hand, and Czar -bounding beside him, the happy little pilgrim would start off after his -early breakfast, long before the visitors had thought of leaving their -rooms, and would not return, save by his own wish, till the evening -shadows began to lengthen, and the valley to lie wrapped in a soft, -tender shade. - -As for drink—was not every mountain rill a fountain for him, free from -all danger of pollution? And there were scattered huts and chalets, -where a drink of goat’s milk could always be obtained, and Squib soon -came to have many a friend along the various routes which he pursued in -turn; for all the simple peasant folk had a ready smile for the little -English boy with his big, grey eyes and sunny curls, and square, quaint -face so full of thoughtful curiosity. - -But though the old folks always looked kindly at him, and exchanged a -morning or evening greeting as he passed, Squib had as yet made no way -with the bare-headed, bare-footed children who were to be seen from time -to time playing round the huts. If he spoke to them they only stared, -and they seemed afraid to approach Czar, who generally stood very close -to his little master if there were any huts or people near. Sometimes -they fled at his approach as if afraid the dog would attack them, and -Squib was not able to understand their guttural exclamations as he -understood the salutations of the grown-up folks. He was rather sorry -for this, as he was a friendly little fellow and would have liked to -fraternize with some of the children; but they were rather like little -savages up here, he thought, and he went on his way solitary, but happy, -satisfied with the companionship of Czar, and talking to him when the -need of speech came over him. - -But all this was soon to be changed. - -One day Squib took a new route, and dropped almost perpendicularly, by a -very tangled path, to the bottom of the valley, instead of skirting -along its side as had been his fashion heretofore. It happened to be a -very warm day, and this tangled woodland path had greater attractions -than those which led through stretches of sunny meadow. The sound of the -brawling torrent at the bottom made refreshing music in his ears as he -descended, and when at last he found himself at the bottom of the -ravine, he was delighted to see that a narrow bridge of planks had been -thrown across the torrent there, by which he could easily cross to the -other side. - -It was a dizzy crossing for any one unused to such transits, but -dizziness was a feeling unknown to Squib; nor was Czar in any way -disturbed by the passage. He followed his little master soberly and -carefully, and in another minute both were on the opposite side of the -familiar valley. - -This was quite a new world for Squib, for, as is so often the way -amongst these hills, one side of a valley seems to open out quite a new -region, and it is not easy to believe oneself so near to old haunts. - -Squib clambered up the opposite bank of the torrent, which was rather -rough and stony, and then found himself at the entrance of a little -wood, through which a narrow footpath ran. He followed this upwards for -some distance, and found himself at last out on a green shoulder of the -mountain spur, with the top of the ridge only a little above him. He -must climb up and look over, he said to himself, and a few minutes’ -breathless clambering brought him to the top; and now a new world, of -which he had never dreamed, lay spread out before him. - -From the chalet he had fancied that the range of snow-peaks opposite -rose directly from the bed of the torrent he had just crossed. Now, -however, he found that a whole panorama of meadow, wood, and water lay -between. Sloping gently away from where he stood were emerald-green -meadows full of flowers, watered by little sparkling rills and foaming -cascades tumbling down the hillsides into a lake at the base as blue as -the sky overhead. To the right and left the valley seemed closed in by -great snow-peaks, which stood like two silent sentinels looking down -upon it; and opposite to Squib were patches of cultivated land, with -here and there a little peasant’s chalet—the wooden roof weighted by -heavy stones, piles of wood cut into lengths heaped up against the wall -on the lee side, the whole house raised up on piles to keep it above the -level of winter snow, and the overhanging eaves and protected gallery -showing that it was lived in all the year round, and not just an abode -for the summer months. - -The tinkling of many bells was filling the air, and Squib’s attention -was speedily attracted to a herd of brown goats feeding at a little -distance. Seated on a green knoll, with (oddly enough, as it seemed to -Squib) a piece of paper and a pencil in his hands, was a little boy in -the rough, snuff-coloured clothes so common in the district, and a -flapping felt hat a world too large for him. He sat with his back -towards the little intruder, apparently intent upon some task. - -At the boy’s feet lay stretched a rough-coated dog with his head on his -paws. The dog seemed to be guarding both the goats and the boy, for he -would rise sometimes and pursue a vagrant goat, who was in danger of -straying away too far, and would make use of the opportunity for making -a rapid circuit round the whole drove and addressing a word of -admonition to them, after which he would return to his old position at -his little master’s feet. - -Squib was always interested in dogs, and looked at this one with -approval, holding Czar by the collar so that their proximity might not -be at once divulged. It was a good-sized dog with a shaggy blue-black -coat, a square head, a strong shoulder, and a look of general -benevolence and intelligence. - -But he was too good a watch-dog to be long without scenting out the -presence of intruders, and suddenly, sighting or smelling them, broke -into a succession of short, sharp barks, running towards them bristling -all over. - -Czar returned the challenge by uttering one of his deep bays, and this -aroused the attention of the little goat-herd, who, as soon as he saw -the pair on the brow of the hill, rose slowly to his feet and called to -his dog in commanding tones. - -Squib, holding Czar by the collar, and bidding him be good and -peaceable, went forward smilingly, and when he got nearer he saw that -the little boy was a cripple, one leg being so much shorter than the -other that he could only stand upright with the help of a rough little -crutch. His face, too, was pinched and pale in spite of its coat of -summer tan. He had a pair of big, wistful, dark eyes, but except for -this the face was not remarkable in any way, the features being -insignificant, and the eyelashes and brows of the same pale, sandy tint -as the hair. - -“Guten Tag!” (which means good-day) said Squib, gravely, and the little -boy returned the salutation in the same words, whilst the two dogs eyed -each other suspiciously. For a minute the two children stood looking at -each other almost in the same tentative and wondering fashion, and then -Squib’s face suddenly lighted with the smile which few could resist. - -“Let’s sit down and talk,” he said, suiting the action to the words. -“You’ve got a dog and I’ve got a dog. I think we ought to be friends.” - -The little goat-herd smiled in response, and sank down upon the mossy -knoll where he had been before, looking out at the little English Herr -from under his sandy brows. He was not very ready with his tongue at -first, but he was wooed into speech before long by Squib’s frank -friendliness. He spoke a queer sort of mixed language, which Squib did -not find quite easy to follow all at once; but a freemasonry was quickly -established between them, and the shaggy dog lay blinking at the little -stranger, as much as to intimate that _he_ understood them both. - -“My dog’s called Czar—what you would call Kaiser,” said Squib, with his -hand on Czar’s great head, although the two dogs seemed to find no cause -of quarrel between themselves; “what’s yours called?” - -“His name is Moor,” answered the little goat-herd, “because he’s black. -But I often call him Ami, and that means friend—because he’s the best -friend I have.” - -“That’s how I feel about Czar!” cried Squib, a link at once forming -itself between the pair. “He goes everywhere with me, and they all know -I am safe when Czar is there. Does Moor come out with you every day when -you take the goats up here to the hill?” - -“Yes, I couldn’t come here if it wasn’t for Moor.” - -“Why not?” asked Squib, full of interest. - -“Because I’m lame. That leg isn’t any use to me walking. I can get up -hill with my crutch and a stick; but I can only get down with Moor -helping me. I put my leg over his back like this, and then I can hold -myself up; but I couldn’t go hardly anywhere without Moor.” - -“Dogs _are_ so nice and kind and sensible!” said Squib, drawing a long -breath of satisfaction. “May I kiss Moor for being so good?” - -Moor submitted to the caress in pleased silence wagging his bob-tail all -the while, and he kissed Squib back again as if to ratify the compact of -friendship. Then he and Czar were formally introduced, with much wagging -of tails, and many snuffs, and a few dignified gambols. The two boys -looked on with great interest, and Squib suddenly asked,— - -“What is your name?” - -“Seppi,” answered the child, “and I live over there in that house,” and -he pointed to one of the chalets Squib had been observing, which were -larger and more solid than the little huts for cattle which lay around -his own present home. - -“And do you live there always? or do you go down into the valleys in the -winter?” - -“Our _thal_ is warm—we stay there all the year round,” answered the -little boy. “The little Herr sees how it lies—all open to the warm sun -in the south and west, and sheltered by the great, beautiful mountains -from the cruel north. We get the snow, to be sure—and we are shut up for -the winter months, except those that can go about in sledges or with -their snow-shoes. But with us the winter does not last as it does in -other parts. When the beautiful spring comes, and the sun looks over the -mountain ridges for many long hours day by day, then the snow begins to -get full of strange holes, and the ice slips down off the roof, and -there is a great cracking and crashing amongst the pine trees, and the -rivers begin to wake and leap into life, and the snow goes slipping, -slipping down into them, and they grow deeper and wilder and fiercer; -and it seems as if the valley were full of voices and the laughter of -the fairies, pushing the snow down the cascades and clapping their hands -to see it swirled along in the fierce water. Then the men take up the -bridges—because they would all get swept away—and for a little bit we -are more shut in than ever, for it is nothing but a world of water. But -the sun goes on shining, shining, shining, and then some morning we wake -up and the valley is green again, and the cows and goats go out to the -hill slopes, and by-and-by the cows from the valleys come up, and life -begins again as it is in the happy summer-time. But yet I like the -winter too. It is very beautiful, although I do miss coming out here and -taking care of my goats.” - -All this was not said at once, but bit by bit, as Seppi sat staring -straight in front of him, and seemed to see the whole scene rising -before him as he conjured it up before his mental vision. Squib listened -with breathless interest, seeing it all, and hearing the strange voices -of the valley almost as clearly as his companion. The lake so blue and -smiling now, how did it look when lashed by winter storms and filled -high with masses of half-melted snow? - -“Do the Seligen Fräulein play there when it is all covered with ice and -snow?” he asked; but at those words his companion turned upon him a -half-frightened look. - -“What does the little Herr know of the Seligen Fräulein?” he asked in a -low voice. - -“Only what Lisa tells me,” answered Squib; “that they live in the ice -and the snow, and love to catch mortals and send them fast, fast asleep -with their cold kisses; and that nobody ever wakes again whom they have -kissed to sleep. Have you ever seen them, Seppi? Lisa never has, nor the -Bergmännlein either.” - -Seppi shook his head as if in awed doubt. His voice was very low as he -made answer,— - -“I don’t think that I saw them; but I was once down, down, down with -them in their blue ice home.” - -“O Seppi!—tell me!” - -“I don’t know how to tell, for I could never remember. That’s what -everybody asks of me, but I can’t tell them anything. I was crossing the -glacier with father, oh, long ago now, when I was quite a little boy. He -had a rope round his waist, and he had tied the end of it round mine to -keep me safe. I was following behind him when my foot caught in a little -crevasse in the ice, and before I could get it out the rope jerked me -off my feet and along, and then suddenly I found myself falling, -falling. I was going down, down, down a great, green fissure, and the -rope had broken, and there was nothing to hold me. After that I don’t -remember anything till I woke up at home, with my leg all bound up; and -ever since that it never grew any more, though I grew, and so I have -been a cripple. And the people look at me and shake their heads, and say -that I have been with the ice-maidens, and that that is why I am lame; -but the good Herr Adler, he told me once that I must not think of it -like that.” - -“Why not?” asked Squib. “And who is the Herr Adler?” - -“He is a man of God—I don’t know how else to call him,” answered the -child with a look of reverence upon his face. “He lives away over in -your country, little Herr; but he belongs to us too—or to Germany -perhaps; and sometimes he comes here when he wants a rest, and stays one -week, or two, or three here in this thal, wandering about the valley, -and thinking his beautiful thoughts about everything. He always comes -and talks to me. He is good to every one he meets, but to the little -children most, I think—though, to be sure, the old women say he is best -to them; and the men, that nobody understands them and their troubles -like the Herr Adler. We all love him here, and count it a good summer -when he comes. He was not with us last year. Perhaps God will send him -to us soon.” - -“And what did he tell you about the ice-maidens?” asked Squib, with -great interest. - -“Ah yes, that was what I was saying. I used to be frightened to think I -had been with them, and the old women would shake their heads and -whisper when I went by; and I knew they were saying that there was -something wrong about me, and that nobody who had been kissed by the -ice-maidens would ever live to make old bones. My mother used to cry, -and I was afraid too; for I love our green valley and happy life—I -didn’t want to die, or to be carried off by the Bergmännlein or the -ice-maidens; and once I was crying about it when the Herr Adler came -suddenly round a corner and found me; and when I told him all about it, -he said such beautiful, good words, and now, whenever I think of them, I -am not frightened any more.” - -“What did he say?” asked Squib, with interest. - -“Ah! I cannot say it as he did; but it was something like this. He spoke -of the good God in the heavens up yonder, and how He had once been a -child Himself, and knew all the dangers which happen to little children. -And how He has told us that He loves little children, and watches over -them specially, and that the beautiful angels who guard the children -have a high place in heaven, and always behold the face of the Father. -And he said that he thought when I was falling down, down, into the cold -blue ice, that the angels must have been helping me and holding me up -all the time; for everybody said it was a miracle I was not killed, and -they perhaps took care of me as I lay there not knowing anything, and -helped father and the men to get me out. He said that little Christian -children could not be hurt by evil spirits, unless they grew wicked and -gave themselves up to evil. So now when I remember the Herr Adler, I am -not frightened any more about ice-maidens, for I think of the beautiful -angels who were watching over me instead. Do you ever think about the -angels, little Herr? I often do now.” - -“So do I,” answered Squib, eagerly; “and I think they must be fond of -beautiful places like this.” And the children talked on and on, passing -from one subject to another in rapid instinctive fashion, till the sun -began to sink in the sky behind, and Squib realized with a start that he -ought to be making his way home. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - COMRADES. - - -“Will you be here to-morrow, Seppi?” - -“Yes, little Herr. I come every day with the goats. I like this place -the best of any, and so do they.” - -“I shall come and see you again, then,” said Squib, with a satisfied -smile. - -“Thank you, little Herr.” - -“What do you do all day when you have nobody to talk to? Were you -writing something when I saw you first?” - -Seppi shook his head, but drew from his wallet the pencil and paper he -had stowed away there when the children had shared together their -mid-day meal. - -“Sometimes I try to draw a little,” he answered, with a loving look -round him at the wonderful outlines of the eternal hills, glowing with -the glories of the westering light. “But all that is too big for me. I -draw my goats and Moor the best. See!” and with a few rapid touches, -which showed that there was talent in those thin brown fingers, Seppi -drew a picture of one of his own goats standing with a defiant -expression on his queer, semi-human, bearded face, whilst Moor was -represented admonishing him with a peremptory bark, as Squib had seen -him do a dozen times that day, when some more independent goat wandered -away and appeared disposed to resent his authority. - -Squib laughed aloud as he watched the quickly-moving pencil. - -“Oh, Seppi, how clever you are! I wish I could draw like that! Who -taught you?” - -“Nobody, exactly. It seems to be in my fingers. But the Herr Adler told -me many things that helped, and he gave me a box of pencils when he was -here last, and left me all his paper when he went away. It’s nearly done -now. I have to be very careful. But if he comes again this summer -perhaps he’ll give me some more. He is so very kind.” - -Squib could not linger longer. It was time he went back. But as he -pursued his homeward way his face was glowing with happiness and with a -generous purpose. - -A new page of history had been turned before Squib’s eyes that day; a -new world had been opened out before him. Hitherto he had lived amongst -those to whom all the good things of this world come as a matter of -course. He himself had had every reasonable pleasure and enjoyment ever -since he could remember, and although his nurses and parents had told -him from time to time that other little boys were not so well off as -himself, he had not yet realized how wide was the gulf which separated -his lot from that of the majority of those about him. - -At home he had heard of poverty and trouble; he had always been used to -go in and out of the cottages on his father’s estate and talk to the -people in them, but he had always fancied that it must be very nice to -live as they did. He found them smiling and content. He knew that in -sickness and trouble they were cared for; nothing in their condition -aroused his pity or compassion. He used often to think he should like to -have one of the cottages himself, and work on the farm instead of going -to school. All the conditions of life which he had seen in England were -too familiar to have aroused speculation, but with this little mountain -goat-herd everything seemed different. - -He did not quite understand what the difference was, but in talking to -Seppi he had realized it more than once with singular clearness. He had -gleaned that Seppi hardly knew the taste of meat, that he and all his -family lived with a frugality almost unknown in England. The bit of -black rye-bread and morsel of goat’s cheese which had been Seppi’s -dinner gave him a better idea of what life in the chalets was like than -he had had before. He had shared his own dainties with the wondering -Seppi, who had plainly never tasted anything approaching such luxuries -before, and could hardly believe that the little Herr fed like that -every day. As for Squib, he had eaten a portion of the hard bread and -cheese with a certain heroic relish, pleased with the novelty of sharing -a real goat-herd’s Swiss dinner, but he could not honestly feel that he -should like such fare every day, and he secretly had no small admiration -for the boy who seemed to take these things as a matter of course. - -And then to think that Seppi could not even obtain pencil or paper for -himself, and could indulge his favourite occupation only through the -kindness of a chance visitor! Why, to Squib such things came as -naturally as the food he ate or the clothes he wore. It would never have -occurred to him that there could be any difficulty in getting pencils. -Squib spoilt or lost a dozen pencils in the year, and as for paper—why, -there was always an endless store at home. And Seppi had to be careful -of his meagre supply because he could get no more unless Herr Adler came -back. - -The child’s eyes glowed with a mixture of feelings as he realized this, -and he hurried home as fast as his legs would carry him, full of a new -purpose and plan. - -Up to his room he hastened by the little outer stairway which was such a -source of delight to him, and straight to the cupboard where all his -treasures were stored. This cupboard was in a state of quaint disorder, -but Squib always knew where to find what he wanted, though the object he -was searching for now was hidden away almost at the bottom of the -receptacle. He drew it forth at last, however, with a look of pride and -delight. It was nothing more or less than a big square sketch-book, with -thick drawing-paper of different soft tints filling its stout black -covers. Squib set to work to count the leaves, and found that there were -fifty. - -Yes, positively fifty! Fifty pages for Seppi to fill with drawings of -his goats, his dog, perhaps even the outlines of the hills or the little -picturesque water-troughs or bridges. - -“I’m sure she won’t mind when I tell her about Seppi. I never draw. I -don’t think I have time or know how. I’ll get Seppi to give me one of -his drawings for her, and when I tell her all about him and how pleased -he was, I’m sure she’ll be glad for him to have it.” - -For the sketch-book had been given to Squib by an aunt of his, who had -come to say good-bye at the Chase before they all went away. He had -wandered into her room one day, as he had a way of doing, and this book -was lying on the table. He asked its use, and was told that it was a -sketch-book, and after they had talked a little more his aunt had said -he might have it, and that perhaps he would be able to bring home a few -little sketches of some of the things he had seen in Switzerland, or of -the chalet in which he was going to live. - -Of course Squib had been delighted with his new possession, and at the -time had fancied he should draw a great deal. He was yet more sure of -this when his aunt had given him a box of coloured chalks with beautiful -fine points to help him with his picture-making. But somehow, since his -arrival at the chalet, other interests had come uppermost, and Squib had -really not thought of his sketch-book at all since he had unpacked it -and put it carefully at the bottom of the cupboard, until reminded of it -to-day. - -Now as it lay open on his knee, and he drew out the box of chalks and -looked lovingly at them—for they were very pretty—he felt a glow of -pleasure in picturing the happiness they would give. It was just a -little more difficult to think of parting with the chalks than with the -book, but Squib would not let himself hesitate for a moment. - -“You greedy boy!” he said aloud in a tone of stern admonition, “you know -you have got so many things yourself you don’t know hardly what to do -with them all; and Seppi has got almost nothing, and is lame, and can’t -do anything but sit still all day and mind his goats. And you can’t draw -a bit, hardly, and he can beautifully. You’re just to give him -everything and not be a pig. I’m ashamed of you, I really am, thinking -you’d like to keep those chalks yourself!” - -And Squib shook his head quite fiercely at himself, and scrambled to his -feet with sketch-book and chalks safe in his grasp. He made them up into -a neat parcel and put them into his bag, and then went off to find Lisa -and tell her all about Seppi. - -Lisa knew Seppi quite well, and said that he was a very good little boy, -and that his parents were very honest, hard-working people. Their name -was Ernsthausen, and they had lived a long time in the valley. The -father went off to the mountains to act as a guide during the summer, -and the mother stayed at home and cultivated their bit of land with the -aid of one son and daughter, whilst little lame Seppi minded the goats -and did a little wood-carving sometimes, though there was not much sale -for it up here, and so many people carved nowadays that it was not -always easy to get money for such work. - -Squib listened with great attention and interest, many plans coming into -his head the while. Perhaps he would get Seppi to give him some lessons -in carving and pay him for them. He would speak to mother about it -sometime, when he knew Seppi better and had time to begin. He would like -to carve above everything. He had already bought a good many charming -little carved-wood animals at Interlaken to give to sisters and friends -at home, but to be able to carve them for himself would be yet more -attractive and delightful. - -Next day Squib was off betimes to his new valley, which in his mind he -had already christened the Vale of the Silent Watchers. There was a vein -of poetry running through Squib’s nature, which helped him to enjoy the -scenes about him as he could not otherwise have done, and those two -silent peaks, with their crowns of everlasting snow, looking down on the -smiling valley and shutting it in (as it appeared to him) at either end, -had powerfully affected his imagination. His dreams that night had all -been of mountain giants and snowy solitudes, and he awoke eager to talk -more with Seppi about the ideas which came crowding into his head. - -Lisa packed him up a more bountiful lunch than usual, when she knew he -was going to join Seppi again. The little satchel was quite heavy, what -with the sketch-book and what with the dinner, but Squib was delighted -at the weight of his burden, and hurried down the rough path and up the -opposite side with a light heart and bounding footstep. - -Seppi was there before him at the green knoll. Squib heard the sound of -the goats’ bells even before he reached the crest of the ridge. But this -time Seppi was sitting with his face towards him, and as soon as he saw -his companion of yesterday, he waved his hat and shouted a glad -greeting, whilst Moor rushed forward with a sharp, joyous bark. - -It was very nice to have a friend now to welcome him and to talk to. The -boys met with the frank fellowship which is only possible on such short -acquaintance between children. - -“I’ve got something for you, Seppi!” cried Squib, as soon as he had -disburdened himself of his satchel, and was wiping his hot face with his -pocket-handkerchief. “Would you like to see what it is?” And opening the -bag, he drew out his parcel and placed it in Seppi’s hands. - -“Is it for me?” asked Seppi, with wide-open eyes, as though such a thing -as a gift were too wonderful to be understood all at once. - -“Of course it is,” answered Squib, “for your very own self. I hope -you’ll like it. I think you will.” - -Squib’s face was flushed with exercise and with generous pleasure. Over -Seppi’s had stolen a strange look of mingled wonderment and awe. In all -life before (which seemed a long one to him) he never remembered -receiving such a grand present as this square parcel done up in paper -and string. He was almost afraid to open it, and sat clasping it between -his trembling hands, till Moor pushed an inquisitive nose against it and -Squib said laughingly,— - -“Don’t you want to see what it is, Seppi?” - -Seppi would not have minded how he prolonged the exquisite pleasure of -that moment, but at Squib’s words he slowly began to unfasten the string -and unfold the brown paper. With the same deliberate slowness and look -of rapturous intentness on his face, he drew forth the square black book -and the long box beside it, and with a strange, fleeting glance at Squib -and a catch in his voice, he asked— - -“What is it, little Herr?” - -“Why, a book for you to put your pictures in, to be sure,” answered -Squib, taking it for a moment into his own hands and opening it. “See, -all these pages are blank—you can put in just what you want; and when -you have drawn anything you can colour it if you like with these chalks. -See—” and Squib took off the lid and displayed to Seppi the rows of -graduated pointed chalks all ready for use, and of all colours that a -young artist could want. - -Seppi turned from red to pale and from pale to red. It seemed as if he -could hardly believe his eyes or his ears; but that he understood the -nature of the gift was plain from the emotion which it excited in him. - -“For me! for me!” he kept saying almost under his breath. “Oh, I can’t -believe it; I can’t understand it; it is too wonderful altogether.” - -Squib was greatly delighted at the success of his experiment. He could -not get Seppi all at once to begin drawing in his book. It was too -beautiful to be done anything with save to be looked at and caressed. -But when the first stress of emotion had passed, Squib got the boy to -make a picture of Moor and two of the goats upon the brown paper of the -wrapper, and to colour them with the chalks, thereby producing a picture -which so delighted him that he begged to have it to take home to his -mother and Lisa. - -Seppi was like a boy in a dream all that day. He sat gazing out at the -mountains with his very soul in his eyes, and by-and-by Squib drew from -him the fact of his intense longing to put on paper those familiar and -well-loved outlines, only his attempts hitherto with his imperfect -materials had resulted always in disheartening failure. - -Squib, however, explained eagerly that on thick paper, and with chalks -to give effects of colour, it would be far easier to draw mountains than -in pencil on flimsy bits of shiny writing paper; and when at their -dinner hour Squib showed him that bread crumbs would rub out pencil -marks from paper without leaving a trace behind, Seppi consented at -last, although in visible fear and trembling, to try to put upon paper -the outlines of the familiar ridge of snow-capped hills under whose -shadow he had been born and brought up. - -Breathlessly one boy worked and the other watched. Seppi had the gift of -an inborn talent; Squib had had a little technical training, and had -always been keenly observant, besides possessing a retentive memory. All -his small store of knowledge and recollection was brought out in aid of -Seppi’s efforts, and the picture slowly grew and grew to the delight and -wonder of both. - -When it came to the use of the chalks—putting the snow-white crowns to -the mountain tops, the green slopes, the bold dashes of red where here -and there the sun struck hot on some ruddy rocks and made them glow like -fire—the excitement became intense. Seppi drew his breath hard as he -worked, and Squib kept up a running commentary of advice, observation, -and enthusiastic praise. Whatever the picture might have appeared to an -outsider, to the vivid imaginations of the children it was a marvellous -reproduction of the scene. Why, even Seppi’s brown chalet, with its -wood-stacks and boundary walls were all there in place, and the -green-blue glacier away to the right was seen creeping down the hillside -at the corner. - -“It is quite splendid,” cried Squib at last, warned by the rosy flush in -the sky that he must be going. “O Seppi, you _are_ clever! I wish I -could draw like you! But never mind, if you can do it that is just the -same. I’ll watch you, and some day you shall do me a picture to take to -Aunt Adela—it was she who gave me the sketch-book to draw in—and she’ll -see how clever you are, and how nice it is for you to have a book to -keep your drawings in.” - -If this new amusement made such a mark in Squib’s history just at this -time, what must it have done in Seppi’s? - -By the time Squib had reached the Vale of the Silent Watchers next day, -Seppi had been hard at work for above an hour giving loving touches to -his picture of the night before, trying effects and making little -studies upon the bits of paper in which Squib’s dinner of yesterday had -been wrapped, every one of which had been eagerly kept and hoarded by -Seppi. - -And now a new life began for both the boys, between whom such a bond of -fellowship had been formed. Squib confided his ambition of learning to -carve to Seppi, and Seppi, delighted to do anything for one to whom he -felt he owed such a debt of gratitude, assured him that it was quite -easy to learn to carve little animals and so forth, and offered to teach -him the art so far as he knew it himself. - -A compact was soon made. Squib had more than one knife, and one of -almost perilous excellence, given him by Uncle Ronald. Seppi could bring -him any number of little blocks of wood which had been rudely shaped by -himself at home, and for which Squib insisted on paying at what seemed -to the little goat-herd to be fabulous rates. But Squib had his own -views on these matters and was very resolute. - -“You shall teach me to carve if you will,” he said, “and I won’t pay you -for that, because we’re friends. But I will pay for the wood, because I -want you to have some money to get paper or chalks with when these are -done and when I’ve gone away. My father and mother give me money, you -see, and I haven’t anything particular to do with it. I want to buy your -wood, and you must let me, please.” - -Then, these preliminaries being amicably settled, the two boys would -pass whole days together in that sunny, quiet valley, the one intent -upon his pictures, ever learning, ever finding fresh facilities in the -use of his new materials; the other, equally engrossed with his knife -and wood, appealing constantly to his patient teacher for hints and -instruction, but showing an aptitude for form and a dexterity of -manipulation which excited Seppi’s honest admiration. - -[Illustration: - - “_Breathlessly one boy worked and the other watched._” - - Page 94. -] - -Very happy were those days of cloudless sunshine, when it was almost too -hot for Squib to ramble far afield, and when sitting beside Seppi in the -shade of the pine woods, watching him draw, and carving busily at his -growing family of goats and dogs, was the pleasantest thing he could -find to do. - -When not too much engrossed in their tasks, the children would talk -together of all the thoughts and fancies in their heads. Seppi caught at -Squib’s fancy about the Silent Watchers of the Valley with the eagerness -of a true son of the mountain. He had not the same power of expression -that Squib could boast. He could describe what he had seen or heard, but -found it less easy to put into words his own imaginings; but he hailed -with delight any fanciful idea of the little Herr’s, and they soon began -to live in a world and atmosphere of their own, which comes so readily -to those upon whom the spell of the mountains has fallen. - -Squib had many fancies about that rugged range opposite. He fancied it -the home of a great mountain giant, who dwelt in some mighty caverns -within. When the echoes of the valley would be awakened by the fall of -great avalanches into some far-away and unseen valleys on the opposite -slope, he would lift his head and cry,— - -“Hark! there is the giant playing bowls in his cave!” - -And when little cloud-wreaths circled about the tops of the ridge, or -lay idly along the hollows, he would pull Seppi by the sleeve and say,— - -“See, the giant is smoking his pipe to-day! You can see the smoke coming -out at the cracks!” - -There was endless amusement and variety for Squib in that peaceful vale -overlooked by those Silent Watchers, who, he was sure, regarded him and -his comrade with protecting kindliness and an especial favour. When it -was not too hot, or he was not too busy, he would stroll down to the bed -of the stream below, where a great flat stone rising high out of the -water gave him a little island home of his own. A willow tree had -sprouted out from a fissure in the stones, and hung over the rock, -affording shelter from the sun. Within this little green retreat Squib -passed many a happy hour, sitting very quiet, looking down into the -sparkling depths of the dimpling water, and listening to the numberless -tales it told him. - -Sometimes strange changes would occur to that friendly stream, even as -he lay watching it and listening to its never-ceasing babble. It would -suddenly rise and swell, and down from the heights above would come -tossing and foaming a great surging volume of water, sometimes brown and -turbid, sometimes clear and sparkling, laughing, playing, foaming, and -shouting as it raced onwards to the lake below. And Seppi would explain -to Squib afterwards that that happened with a sudden fall of snow or ice -into the stream above. It would perhaps remain there in a mass for a day -or two; then the hot sunshine would strike it and melt it with wonderful -rapidity, and the volume of water suddenly set at liberty would come -tearing down the rivulet to swell the stream and rush helter-skelter to -the lake. - -This thought made it all the more interesting when it happened again, -and Squib would lean over his rock and watch the quick rise of the -water, and the swirl and thunder of the miniature cascades, and say to -himself,— - -“The giant has been throwing his snowballs about, and the sun is driving -the ice-maidens deeper and deeper into their caverns. Perhaps the giant -throws the snowballs after them to make them run away quicker! I wonder -if I should ever see them if I were to be here in the long cold winter, -when they fly about touching everything with their wands, and sending -all the world to sleep till the sun comes to wake it. They must be very -beautiful with their white robes and crystal crowns, and sceptres tipped -with moonlight; but I think they are rather cruel, too. Perhaps it is -better to come when they are driven back into their green caverns, and -can only hurt the people who seek them there.” - -As time went on Squib began to know all about Seppi, though to be sure -there was not much to know in that very simple and uneventful life. - -It was as Lisa had said. His father, who knew the mountains well, went -out every year through all the summer months as a guide; and Seppi said -his mother always cried each time he went away, because she knew he -might never live to come back again. Every year many brave men lost -their lives on the mountains, and skill and strength were often of no -avail against the reckless hardihood of inexperienced and rash -travellers, who would not listen to advice, and who risked other lives -besides their own in their folly and pride. Nevertheless, hitherto the -good God had always preserved him, and brought him safely home again, -and his wife and children prayed every day that he might be kept from -all peril. - -At home there was Peter to help mother in the fields, and Ann-Katherin, -the little sister, who helped at home, and was Seppi’s chief comrade and -sympathiser, as Squib quickly gathered, though Seppi himself did not -appear to be given to comparisons. - -Peter was older than Seppi by one year, and very much taller and -stronger. He was now twelve, and was looking forward to the time when he -should be a man and could go out first as porter and then as guide, and -leave the monotonous life of the valley for something more stirring. But -for himself Seppi had no such desire, even had it been possible for him -to think of an active life. He and Ann-Katherin loved their home and -their valley with a love too strong for expression—a love which had -grown with their growth and strengthened with their strength till it had -become an essential part of their nature. Squib thought he could -understand that feeling. He felt that if he had lived in this place he -should never want to leave it. He remembered how Lisa used to cry when -she told him of her mountain home, and how he had longed to see it for -himself. Gradually as he grew to understand the life led by the -peasants, its hardness and poverty, and yet its quiet contentment and -business, a feeling came over him that it was a good life to lead—that a -little with peace and contentment was far better than the feverish -discontent that was always striving after more, even at the expense of -the weaker ones who must of necessity “go to the wall” in the struggle. - -Squib was too young to enter with any real comprehension into the -burning questions of the day, but he was too observant and quick not to -have caught up some notions from the talk he heard amongst his elders -from time to time. - -“I like your country,” he said one day to Seppi very seriously; “I think -it’s a good country to live in. I wish our people in England would come -and see you and learn to be like you. You don’t waste things, and you -don’t grumble. You haven’t any workhouses and poor-laws; and you don’t -seem to want them. You may be poorer than English people, but you’re -much happier. I think it’s happiness that is the real thing. I wish we -were as happy as you.” - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - HERR ADLER. - - -Squib was sitting on his favourite stone in the middle of the brawling -stream. He had left Seppi absorbed in one of his most ambitious attempts -at sketching—so much absorbed that conversation for the time being was -impossible. When that sort of thing happened, Squib generally wandered -down to “his island,” as he had come to call it. He liked to sit here in -the midst of the tossing and foaming water, and think of all the things -that came crowding into his head—that seemed to him often like the talk -of the water as it leaped and rushed onward down its rough bed. To-day -its voice was softer and quieter than it had been when first he heard -it. The fine weather had lasted long now, and the water no longer raved -and foamed, and dashed itself about like a wild thing. Where the stones -impeded its course it broke into spray and ran foaming in little -cascades, or leaped like a live thing into the air; but there were other -places where it flowed quietly between its green banks, making a placid -murmur of content; and Squib would lean over his rock and listen to the -many voices, and dream all sorts of dreams for which he never could have -found words. - -Czar sat on the bank with his head on his paws, and blinked contentedly -at his little master. Czar seldom crossed to the island, unless -especially invited. He did not find enough room there to dispose his big -limbs in comfort, nor were the slippery stepping-stones or the bed of -the stream much to his mind. He preferred to keep a watchful eye upon -his charge from the bank, and Squib had ceased to try to tempt him -across. - -Now all this time Squib had never seen anybody in his quiet valley -except Seppi himself. He had come to regard it almost as his own little -kingdom, much as he did his favourite haunts at home, where he and Czar -reigned supreme. True, there was a rough, overgrown path along the -margin of the stream, but he had never seen a living creature treading -it, nor had the sound of a human voice ever broken in upon his solitary -musings; so that it was with a feeling of great surprise that he -suddenly saw Czar rear himself up on his haunches to-day, and give one -of those deep bays that he uttered at home when somebody strange passed -near his kennel at night. Squib himself sat up to listen, and soon heard -the sound of an approaching footstep. The steps seemed to be coming -towards him through the little wood opposite. Czar bayed again, and put -up the rough all down his back. - -“Quiet, Czar, quiet,” said Squib in his commanding way. “This isn’t our -wood really. You mustn’t be angry if other people come. We’re not the -masters here.” - -The hound ceased baying at the word of command, and wagged the tip of -his tail as much as to say that he understood and would obey; but he -still stood very erect and bristling, his great eyes, with the red gleam -in them, fixed intently upon the spot whence the sounds came. The little -boy also watched with considerable curiosity, and thought that the -traveller, whoever he was, did not seem in any hurry. He must be walking -very leisurely. - -The steps came nearer and nearer, the brushwood moved and rustled, and -then the traveller came into view, and Squib saw him quite clearly. It -was a gentleman—not a peasant—as Squib saw at a glance. He wore a long -grey coat, and a soft black hat was on his head. His head was bent as -though in thought, or in close observation of the things about him, and -his hands were loosely clasped behind his back. He must be old, Squib -decided at the first glance, for his hair and beard were quite white; -but when, at the sound of Czar’s short explosive bark, he suddenly -raised his head and Squib saw his face clearly, he never thought again -about his being old, for it was such a kind, good face, and the look in -the clear blue eyes was so friendly and gentle, that the child’s heart -went out to him at once. He knew instantly that here was somebody -“nice.” - -“Don’t be afraid of my dog, sir,” he called out in German; “he won’t -hurt you. It’s only because he’s so surprised to see anybody here. -Generally we are all alone all the time.—Be quiet, Czar,” he added -sternly to the dog, “I won’t have you make that noise.” - -The traveller looked up at the child, perched upon his mimic throne in -the midst of the stream, and a smile of amusement and friendly interest -dawned slowly over his face. - -“And who may you be, my little man?” he asked, speaking in English, -although there was something in the accent which told Squib that it was -not his native tongue. “Are you a water-sprite? And is this your -faithful guardian?” and he held out his hand to Czar, who came slowly up -to him, sniffed at his hand and his coat, and then lay down again with -his head on his paws, quite content with his investigation. - -“He likes you,” cried Squib, skipping across the stones towards the -stranger, to whom he felt curiously drawn; “he doesn’t like many people. -Generally he’s very suspicious for a long time, but he’s not suspicious -of you. Some people think he’s a very fierce dog, and are afraid of him; -but you weren’t afraid, were you?” - -“I didn’t know he was fierce,” answered the stranger, smiling and -patting Czar’s great head, while the dog wagged his tail benevolently. -“It is not worth while to be afraid of a danger beforehand. Is your dog -very clever as well as very fierce?” - -“I don’t know,” answered Squib. “Czar understands me, I think, but I -don’t think he’s particularly clever. Ought he to be, do you think?” - -“I am not sure. Sometimes when dogs are fierce and clever both, they can -be very dangerous. Shall I tell you a story I heard not very long ago -about a dog that was both, and what he did?” - -“Oh, if you please, sir,” answered Squib, who delighted in an animal -story whenever he could hear one. - -“I am not sure what kind of dog it was, but I think it was a hound of -some sort. A farmer had it who lived in a lonely place. He wanted a -rather fierce dog to guard his house at night and be about the place by -day. He had a daughter who was fond of the creature, and it would obey -her, and she looked after it, and called it in when any person came up -to the farm and was afraid of the dog. It seemed fond of her, and she -was fond of it. - -“I don’t quite know how long it was after the dog came, but at any rate -by-and-by the shepherd came to tell the farmer that every night a sheep -was missing from the flock. He kept a close watch and found out that it -was a dog that came every night, ran down and killed a sheep, and ate a -part of the carcass. In the dark he was not able to see exactly what -kind of dog it was, but he said that it looked to him like the hound the -farmer had bought. This, however, seemed impossible, for the hound slept -in the kitchen and was locked in there every night, and was always safe -there each morning, doors and windows being all locked. But still the -sheep were killed night by night, and still the shepherd declared -himself more and more certain that the hound was the culprit.” - -“Oh, what a wicked dog!” cried Squib, drawing a long breath; “but I -think these dogs could be very fierce if once they had begun to do -things like that. Please go on, sir.” - -“Well, the thing was getting so serious that the farmer said something -must be done, and his daughter suggested that she should sleep one night -in the kitchen, where the dog stayed, and really see if it was possible -that he could get in and out. So that night she made up a bed on the old -settle that stood in the kitchen, and when the time came she fastened -herself in and went to bed. The dog lay in front of the fire as usual, -and looked as if he never meant to move all night. The girl was getting -very drowsy, when she fancied she heard the dog move cautiously. There -was enough light from the fire for her to be able to see what went on in -the kitchen, and very soon she saw that the dog had got up and was -looking at her intently. She closed her eyes almost, just peeping out -through the lids, and breathed heavily as if she were asleep. The dog -came stepping up to her very, very quietly, and she felt his breath on -her cheek as he seemed to be actually sniffing at her to make sure she -was asleep. She was almost afraid of him then, there seemed something -unnatural about him; but she lay perfectly still, and he seemed to be -satisfied. Then she felt him move away, and just opening her eyes a -little she saw him go across to a window, rather high up in the wall, -that was fastened by a little bolt. The dog got upon the window seat, -unfastened the bolt with his teeth, pulled the window open by the bolt, -and sprang out into the night with a curious whimpering sound like that -of a wolf. The girl lay quite still, rather frightened, but resolved to -see the thing through, and in about an hour or more, I don’t know how -long it might be, the dog came back. He sprang through the window, -pushed it to, drew the bolt again with his teeth, and then turned round -to look at her, and she saw that there was blood round his mouth.” - -“He had killed a sheep!” cried Squib under his breath. “Oh, what a -wicked dog!” - -“Yes, he had killed a sheep; but he was able to do worse than that. For -the girl had been so astonished to see the creature’s cleverness in -getting in and fastening up the window, that she was sitting up in bed -to watch him, when he turned round and saw her. It seemed then as if he -were clever enough to know himself found out, for suddenly his eyes grew -fierce and red, and he made a roaring noise like that of a wild beast. -The girl sprang from her bed, and had just time to reach the door before -he made his spring; she knew that had she been a moment later he would -have flown at her throat. She saw by his eyes, and heard in that horrid -roaring noise he made, that he would have flown at her and killed her -had she not been able to escape.” - -“Oh, what a dreadful dog!” cried Squib, his eyes fixed upon the face of -the narrator with the gaze of fascination. “What did the farmer do with -him then?” - -“Of course he was shot in the morning, and no sheep were killed after -that. It had been this clever dog that had done it all the time, just as -the shepherd believed.” - -“Oh, sir, I am glad Czar is not fierce like that. Do you think that is a -true story?” - -“It was told me as true,” answered the stranger, “and I have heard other -stories of hounds that have been known to be terribly fierce and savage -when their jealousy has been aroused. And I can quite believe that if a -dog once took to killing and eating sheep, the wild beast in him would -get the upper hand very quickly, and he would soon be quite unsafe.” - -“I suppose that’s what father feels about Czar. I’ve heard him say that -if he ever did bite anybody he would have to be shot. That’s why I try -so hard to make him kind and good to people. I should be so sorry if he -got fierce, he’s such a nice dog to have with one in a lonely place. I -think a dog is great company. But Czar doesn’t like my island, it’s too -small and slippery for him. Would you like to see my island, sir? It’s -such a nice place. Shall I help you across to it? The stones are rather -slippery, but there are not many of them.” - -Squib received a friendly smile and nod in reply, and found that the -stranger was quite able to make his way over the stepping-stones without -assistance. The little boy showed all the wonders and beauties of his -mimic kingdom with great pride: the little delicate flowers shooting up -from the crevices filled with earth, the willow tree growing out of the -solid stone, as it appeared, and the beautiful green moss which clothed -the sides of the boulder. The traveller was such a nice person to show -things to and to tell things to! He was interested in everything, and -had a hundred wonderful things to say about the island—things which -Squib himself had hardly observed, and which had never struck him as -they did now. Very soon Squib found that it was he who was listening and -his new friend who was talking, telling him about the wonderful way in -which the rocks were made, what sand was, what chalk was, how the world -had come to be the wonderful and beautiful place it was. Squib listened -as he listened to Lisa’s tales of fairies and goblins, and found it just -as interesting. No matter whether they spoke of rocks or flowers or -trees, or the rushing, tumbling water, there was always something -wonderful to be learned, and presently Squib drew a long breath and -said,— - -“Oh, sir, I never knew before what a wonderful place my island was -really!” - -A very kind smile shone in the stranger’s eyes as he answered,— - -“And you will find more and more wonders there every day of your life, -my child; and if you go through the world with open eyes, you will find -that it is full, crowded, with the most wonderful things, of which you -will be able to learn only a little here and a little there. But the -wonder and the beauty will fill your heart, and make you very happy in -the thought that some day it will be given to us, we hope and believe, -to understand much, much more of all these wonders than we can ever hope -to do now.” - -Squib looked up at him quickly, not quite certain of his meaning. He -hardly knew whether the next words were an answer to his unspoken -question. - -“You know, my child, that the world is full of the wonders of God. -Everything speaks of Him to those who have ears to hear. That is why I -think we can never know more than just a very little of all these -wonders till we know Him in His glory.” - -Squib looked up into the kind face, and saw there a look which drew him -like a magnet, he could not have said why. He instinctively slipped his -hand within that of his new friend, and said with sudden conviction,— - -“I think you must be Herr Adler.” - -The stranger put his head on one side and looked at the child smilingly. - -“Now what fairy or little bird has whispered that to you?” - -“Neither,” answered Squib laughing; “it came into my head from something -that Seppi said. He told me about Herr Adler. He called him a man of -God. I didn’t know what he meant. And then he said that everybody in the -valley felt better and happier when he had been there. I think I -understand now. I am sure you must be Herr Adler.” - -A hand was laid for a moment on Squib’s head in a touch that felt in -some way like a blessing. Then Herr Adler said,— - -“So you know my little friend Seppi, do you? I was on my way to find him -when I fell in with another little boy friend.” - -Squib looked up brightly. - -“I should like to be your friend. I didn’t know little boys could count -as friends with grown-up people. Seppi and I are great friends. I go and -see him almost every day. He draws all sorts of things. He is very -clever, and he teaches me to carve animals and things for the children -at home. Will you come and see him now? He will be _so_ pleased!” - -“Yes, I should like to go if you will take me. And you shall show me -your carving and Seppi’s drawings. But you must tell me your name if we -are to be friends, for I am not such a clever guesser as you.” - -“Oh, as for that, they just call me Squib at home.” - -“Squib! Why, isn’t that a sort of firework? Now, didn’t I say you were a -sprite? I suppose when you get tired of being here you just set yourself -alight and go fizzling back into elf-land.” - -Squib laughed delightedly. - -“I wish I could! It would be jolly to go fizzling through the air and -get somewhere you don’t know how! I should like that awfully! But you -see I can’t. People can’t do that, can they?” - -“I only heard of one man who did it and lived to tell the tale. It was -at that wonderful siege of Antwerp, of which you will read when you grow -up, when the citizens tried to blow up the bridge the Spaniards had -thrown across the mouth of the Scheldt. In that terrific explosion there -was one man lifted up off his feet, and taken right across that wide -river and set down on the opposite side without being hurt, and he told -his friend afterwards that all the while he believed himself a -sky-rocket going off, and felt no fear, having no time or breath to -think of anything as he was hurled through the air. Many people have -been blown into the air, but very few have lived to say what it feels -like afterwards.” - -Squib listened with the concentrated attention which was one of his -characteristics, and asked some questions about the bridge and the -explosion, which led to a story from Herr Adler of such thrilling -interest that they had almost reached Seppi’s knoll before the little -boy realized it. What brought him back out of the past to the present -was the sound of a joyful cry and as joyful a bark. Moor came bounding -down the slope and made such a jump at Herr Adler that he was almost -able to lick his face, whilst Seppi was scrambling down the greensward -with a rapidity Squib had never seen in his movements before. - -“Well, good creature! well, good creature!” said Herr Adler, caressing -the eager and delighted dog. - -“How well he knows you! How he remembers you!” cried Squib, looking on -with a beaming smile. “Seppi, I have found Herr Adler! Here he is. He -was coming to look for you, and I showed him the way.” - -Then he stood aside and watched the meeting, noting the rapture of -welcome in Seppi’s face which he could not put into words, but which -brought the tears into his eyes, and thinking what a beautiful, kind -face Herr Adler had as he stood talking to the little boy, holding his -thin hands all the while, and asking him of his mother, his family and -home, and how things had gone with them during the past winter. - -Herr Adler spoke Seppi’s country patois as easily as he spoke English, -and whilst he talked to Seppi, Moor kept putting up his paws and -stuffing his nose into his hand to try to attract attention, and win one -of those quiet caresses and kind words of which Herr Adler had many to -give him. - -After a little while they all moved up again towards the knoll in the -pleasant shade of the pine trees, and Squib set himself to gather -together Seppi’s chalks and papers, which, in his delight at seeing Herr -Adler, he had cast hither and thither in unceremonious fashion. - -“Do look at Seppi’s drawings, Herr Adler!” cried the little boy, as he -took the sketch-book to his new friend; “doesn’t he draw beautifully? -Hasn’t he got on well?” and he turned the leaves with pride, whilst -Seppi sat with crimson cheeks, as though almost afraid to draw breath -till he heard what the Herr thought of his work. - -Herr Adler looked through the book very carefully, and said many kind -things about the progress Seppi had made. But he also pointed out many -faults in his work, and generally showed him how to avoid that fault -another time. He also told Seppi that he did better when he took easy -subjects, such as a goat, or a few ferns growing out of some stones, or -a single clump of flowers, and advised him to give up for a time trying -to make pictures of the great mountains and valleys, because he had not -sufficient knowledge for that yet, but to content himself with -progressing a step at a time, and then he would gradually find himself -farther and farther along the road, and be able to succeed with larger -things as his skill increased. But he said it all so kindly, and with so -many illustrations and stories interspersed, that Seppi was not one whit -discouraged, laughed quite merrily over some of his own obvious failures -with difficult subjects, and agreed that it was far better to succeed -with some study than to make a grand-looking daub which had so many -glaring faults in it. - -Squib thought it was very good and humble of Seppi to be willing to set -aside the sort of drawing he loved so much. - -“I think it was my fault that he stopped doing goats and things and did -the mountains,” he remarked. “I wanted him to get on, and to be a great -artist and make grand pictures. It seems tiresome always doing easy -little things, and I thought his pictures were so very good.” - -“I knew they weren’t,” said Seppi softly. “I liked doing them; it gave -me such nice thoughts about what I should like them to be. But now when -I look at them I can see they are frightful. I will go back to my -goats!” - -Herr Adler looked at Squib with one of his kind smiles, and said,— - -“What do you think it is to be a great artist, my little firework -friend?” - -“Oh, why, to paint great big pictures that everybody looks at and talks -about, isn’t it, sir?” - -An amused look crept into Herr Adler’s eyes. - -“That would be a very easy way of getting to be a great artist. I think -even you or I could paint a great monster picture that everybody would -stare at who saw it, because it would be so bad.” - -“Oh, I didn’t mean that,” answered Squib laughing; then he paused, -looked into Herr Adler’s face, and said, “Tell me what you call a great -picture, please.” - -Then Herr Adler’s blue eyes seemed to look out beyond the faces of his -listeners in a way Squib quickly came to know well, and he answered,— - -“I think that a great picture is one into which the painter has put -something of his own self—his own soul—as well as that thing which he -has tried to draw; something which lifts us up above just the thing -itself, and makes us feel a breath from the world of nature, or draws -our hearts and thoughts upwards towards the Maker of the world. It need -not be a large, grand, ambitious work to do that; but it must be the -best that the painter has to offer—and it must breathe the spirit of -truth.” - -Seppi’s face suddenly kindled and glowed. - -“Oh, I think I know what you mean!” he cried. “Oh, how I wish that you -painted pictures!” - -Squib was not sure that he did quite understand, but he liked to hear -Seppi and Herr Adler talk, and meantime he busied himself in unpacking -the luncheon and in spreading it invitingly upon green leaves on their -stone table. Lisa had given him a generous supply of provisions that -day, and there was enough and to spare for all. Herr Adler told them -many stories as they sat and ate; and then Squib rose and said good-bye -for that day, as he thought that Seppi might have things to say to Herr -Adler that he would not care for anybody else to hear. - -“If I had anything troubling me, I’m sure I should like to tell Herr -Adler about it,” he said to himself as he fastened up his satchel. “I -think perhaps Seppi would like to talk to him alone. I’ll go home now; -but I hope I shall see Herr Adler again.” - -“Are you going to shoot yourself off, my little friend?” said Herr -Adler, as Squib came up with outstretched hand. - -“I think I must go back home now,” answered the little boy; “but I hope -you’ll come again to our valley, sir, and have lunch with us, and tell -us some more of your stories.” - -“That I will with pleasure,” answered Herr Adler. “This valley and I are -old friends. When I am far away in quite different places, I often shut -my eyes and see it all again: the green slopes with the rocks and the -pine trees lying in the sunlight, and those two great white peaks -towering above, sometimes dazzlingly white, and sometimes blushing red -in the sunset.” - -“I call them the Silent Watchers,” said Squib, looking from one to the -other, “because they seem always to be watching. Perhaps you can tell us -a story about them some day.” - -Herr Adler smiled very kindly. - -“I am not sure that I know any story about them; but I used to be very -fond of a certain walk up towards the glacier under one of them. If I am -not too old and you are not too young, perhaps you and I might find our -way there one of these fine days.” - -“Oh, I should like that!” answered Squib with a beaming face; “I have so -often wanted to go nearer and see the glacier. Father and Uncle Ronald -say that I walk very well. I hardly ever get tired; and they have taken -me to a lot of places.” - -“Then we will think about it,” answered Herr Adler; and Squib went home -with a happy heart, feeling that something new and interesting had come -into his life. - -Next day he started off early for the valley, and found Seppi there as -usual, hard at work drawing. But the chalks and sketch-book had been -laid aside, and the little goat-herd was making careful studies from his -own flock on odd bits of paper; and so earnest was he over his task, -that Squib had sat some few minutes looking over his shoulder before he -was aware of his presence. - -“O Seppi, you _are_ clever!” cried the admiring Squib, as he took up the -little studies one after the other, laughing heartily at some of them, -where a goat was depicted in the act of butting its fellow, or executing -some antic over a jutting rock. - -“No, no,” answered Seppi quickly; “don’t praise me any more, little -Herr. It makes me conceited, and that spoils my work. I’m not clever. I -began to think I was; but when I saw Herr Adler looking at my drawings, -then I knew how bad they were, and I was horribly ashamed of them! When -you were gone I told him so; and do you know what he said?” - -“What?” answered Squib eagerly. - -Seppi paused awhile, and then replied,— - -“I can’t say it after all; I mean not as he did. The words are quite -different when he says them. You know what I mean, don’t you? But it was -something like this—that our lives were somehow like my drawings. We -tried to make them good and beautiful and clever, and sometimes thought -we were getting on and doing something fine. But when God came and -looked at all we had done, we should just feel as though it was—oh, so -worthless and poor and bad! not because He would not accept it from us, -but because we should feel it all so dreadfully unworthy to offer.” - -Squib looked grave and a little puzzled. - -“I never thought of things that way,” he answered; “I wish I’d heard -Herr Adler talk about it. But I don’t see how _he_ can feel that. He is -so very good.” - -“Oh yes,” answered Seppi earnestly; “I think he’s the best man in all -the world. Everybody here knows that he is a man of God.” - -“What _is_ being a man of God, Seppi?” asked Squib curiously. - -Seppi found that rather a hard question to answer. - -“I can’t tell,” he replied; “one feels it somehow. And then Herr Adler -has talked sometimes to me about the Kingdom. That helps to make one -feel it. It is all so very beautiful.” - -“Tell me,” said Squib drawing nearer, “what is the Kingdom?” - -“I’m not sure that I can explain. I can’t say things right even when I -seem to feel them inside of me. Herr Adler says that the Bible tells us -that some day Jesus Christ will come back again and reign on earth; and -that all things will be made new and beautiful; and that His saints will -reign with Him. You know about the servants who had the money, and some -did well with it and had cities to rule over, and one did nothing and -had his money taken away. Herr Adler thinks it will be like that with -us. If we use what is given us now, and do our very best with it, we -shall have things set us to do in the Kingdom; but if we have wasted it -all, or done nothing, then we shall not be fit to help, and nothing will -be trusted to us. It doesn’t matter what it is that we do, however -little the talent is. If we do our best with it, and do not waste or -bury it, we shall use it again—oh, so much better then! I can’t say it -as he does. But I feel it is all true; so I’m not going to try any more -to do things much too difficult for me. That’s not getting on; I think -that’s just conceit. I’m going to draw the things I can do, and do them -as well as ever I can. I want to make a lot of little pictures from my -goats; and then put them together in one big picture to give Herr Adler -before he goes.” - -This was a very long speech for Seppi to make, and it was not made all -at once, but just a bit at a time as he sat looking out before him, with -Squib at his side looking earnestly into his face as though to learn all -his meaning and encourage him to proceed. The magnitude of the thoughts -suggested was rather much for his brain, although he apprehended much of -it with the quick intuition of childhood. But Seppi’s last words -suggested a new train of thought; and Squib answered eagerly,— - -“Oh yes, you do that! Make him a beautiful picture of your goats and the -valley and the Silent Watchers—” - -“No, no, no!” cried Seppi almost vehemently. “Not the valley and the -mountains. I can’t do them. Just a group of my own goats, with Moor -watching them, and some stones and flowers in front, and just a rift in -the sky behind, and the light coming through. I can see it all—if only I -could do it! But it shan’t be anything grand. I should only get all into -a muddle! I’ll do it all again and again in pencil; and then I’ll try -the chalks for the colours of the goats and the sky and the flowers.” - -“And I’ll carve him something!” cried Squib, fired by sudden desire. -“I’ll make him a carving of Czar! I think he’ll like Czar when he knows -him. He likes Moor, and Moor is very fond of him. Perhaps I’ll do Moor -and Czar playing together. They do have great games. I wonder if I could -do that.” - -“Try something easy, and do it well,” advised Seppi, with the touch of -diffidence he always showed in offering an opinion of his own to the -little gentleman. He admired Squib with all his heart, and thought him -wonderfully clever, but he knew that his carving was crude and -unfinished, and that a group of dogs at play was far beyond his powers. - -Squib, however, set to work with great zeal, shaping a bit of wood to -his purpose, and chatting gaily all the while; and Seppi was soon lost -again in his work—studying the attitudes of his goats as he had never -studied them before, and learning new things about them every hour. - -“Oh!” he cried at last, throwing down his pencil almost in tears; “I -hardly believed it when he said it; but it seems as if there were never -any end of learning about the least thing in the world! I’ve been with -goats all my life, and I don’t know yet what they’re like!” - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - HAPPY HOURS. - - -“Here he is! Here he is!” cried Squib, starting to his feet; and at that -cry Seppi looked up, and with a beaming face began hastily collecting -together his scattered studies, putting them away in the little satchel -kept for the purpose. As for Squib, he was already a hundred yards away, -dashing along like a veritable firework till he pulled up short, close -beside the stranger in the long coat, who was not a stranger to him now. - -Moor had been quicker still, and was capering round Herr Adler in an -ecstasy of welcome, whilst Czar came up with an air of friendly -patronage, and sniffed at the outstretched hand quite affably. - -“O sir, I am so glad you have come! Seppi and I have been counting the -days and wondering.” - -“You see I have a good many friends to visit when I get into these -parts,” answered Herr Adler, smiling; “I have been making a little round -of old acquaintances. And have you been here every day, cheering up my -little friend Seppi?” - -“I like to come,” answered Squib; “Seppi and I are great friends. I -think Seppi is a very nice boy. He is so good and patient about being -lame. I should think it must be so very hard to be lame. Don’t you?” - -“Yes, I think it is one of the greatest trials that a boy can have to -bear; and Seppi was quite strong and active before the accident that -lamed him, as I dare say he has told you. But still he has a beautiful -place to live in, and his friends the goats to amuse him, and his -drawing and his carving which occupy his hands. And this summer it seems -he has another little friend to cheer him up. I am very pleased about -that, for his life out here is rather lonely, though he is so fond of -it.” - -“Yes; you see Peter and Ann-Katherin are wanted at home. They can only -spare Seppi to mind the goats. And then he has Moor, and Moor is a very -nice dog. A dog is a very good kind of—of—_person_ to talk to when -you’ve got nobody else. I know that by Czar. I often think he’s nicer -than lots of the people one sees. I like dogs. They can’t talk, to be -sure, but they try with their eyes and their ears and their tails. I can -have quite nice talks with the dogs at home, out in the fields. We had a -lot of fox-terrier puppies in the spring. I used to have them all out -together, with Czar to take care of them, and teach them things. It was -great fun. You know dogs are just as different as people are. They look -all alike just at first; but they aren’t a bit really. They’re just as -different as children are when you get to know them.” - -“Some people find children very much alike,” answered Herr Adler with a -smile. “I had a dear old friend, a professor, who married rather late in -life. He had some dear little children, but his wife thought that their -noise would trouble him, so she kept them very much in the nursery, and -when they came down to see papa, they were as still and quiet as so many -little mice. The professor was very absent and very short-sighted, and -often up in the clouds, as we say; but all the same he had a very tender -heart, and would have liked to see more of his children, only, somehow, -they never seemed to be there. One day he was walking up and down in -some public gardens belonging to the row of houses where he lived. He -very seldom went there, but to-day he had gone in, and by-and-by he saw -some children at play, and grew interested in them and talked kindly to -them, and even joined in their game. And when he went away he saw one -little girl looking up with a very sweet and half-wistful smile into his -face, and he bent down to kiss her, and said, ‘Well, my little darling, -whose little girl are you?’ and she cried out, ‘Yours, papa!’—and sure -enough it was his own little girls, as well as some others, with whom he -had been playing, and he had never known them in their hats and coats, -laughing and chatting as they never did at home. That was a funnier -thing than for people not to know little puppy dogs one from the other!” - -“What a funny man!” cried Squib. “Didn’t he laugh when he found out?” - -“I dare say he did, and perhaps after that he played more with his -children, and taught them not to be afraid of him. But when people are -absent and forgetful they do very funny things. I heard of an officer -once who rode into his stable-yard and called out angrily to his men, ‘I -can’t find my horse anywhere! What have you fellows done with him? Go -and bring him out to me at once!” - -“And he was on his back all the time!” cried Squib with a hearty laugh -of delight. “Oh, I like that story; it’s better than the people who hunt -everywhere for their spectacles when they are on their noses all the -time! You must tell Seppi about that. I am sure it would make him laugh -too.” - -Seppi’s face was beaming with pleasure by the time Herr Adler reached -the knoll. It was a very beautiful day of early summer. The air was so -clear and fresh that the heat of the sun was not overpowering, and -everything seemed full of joy and happiness. Squib did not know which -looked the most beautiful—the great white mountains towering into the -clear blue sky, or the dark-green pines with their ruddy stems, or the -green slopes where the goats browsed and frisked, or the glimpses of -tossing, foaming water dashing along below them in its rocky bed. -Everything was so beautiful, he thought; and it seemed more beautiful -than ever to-day because Herr Adler was there to see it too, and he -pointed out such a number of things that Squib had never noticed before, -and told such wonderful stories about the things that grew in the fields -and the creatures that lived in the woods, even about the rocks and the -stones, the ice and the snow, till Squib, drawing a long breath, would -exclaim,— - -“O sir, how wonderful everything is! I wish I knew as much as you. It -makes everything so interesting.” - -“You can know a very great deal more than I ever shall do, my little -friend, and yet feel only how very, very little you have learned. But -you are quite right. Everything in the world is full of -interest—wonderful interest. Everything can teach us new lessons. -Everything speaks to us a beautiful language, if we will only listen and -be willing to learn. But learning is often a slow and tedious process; -and sometimes we throw down our books with disgust, and say, ‘Oh, I -can’t be bothered with all this stupid stuff!’ and we turn to something -else to see if that will be more interesting. But that isn’t the spirit -in which to learn.” - -Squib’s face had turned suddenly red. - -“O sir” he said, “how did you know?” - -At that question Herr Adler smiled; and Squib went on speaking quickly, -but with an honest wish to be truthful,— - -“I do so often feel like that! I want to know lots of things; but it -does seem so slow and tiresome learning. Then I get tired and cross and -naughty; and sometimes I just bang down my books and run away out of -doors. I shan’t be able to do that when I go to school; but at home I -can sometimes, because some of my lessons I do quite alone, and there -isn’t always anybody in the room even.” - -“I know that feeling very well,” answered Herr Adler. “I used to have it -too; and I should know a good deal more than I do now if I hadn’t given -way to it so often. But you take my advice, my little friend; and next -time things seem very dull, try to find out if they can’t be interesting -somehow. If it’s history, try to think that all these people were real -men and women once; try to put yourself in their places, and think how -you would have acted if you had been there. If it’s geography, just shut -your eyes and try to picture the places you have to learn about. Now -that you are a bit of a traveller, you should be able to do that. Think -of the sort of people who live there, and the animals, and the great -mountains and wonderful forests, or rivers, or deserts—or whatever it -is. Even if it’s only a hard sum, it can be interesting enough if you -will only make up your mind to do your very best with it. And as for -Latin and Greek, you must think of all the wonderful old books you will -be able to read when you have mastered them. Oh yes, everything can be -interesting, and is interesting really. It is our own fault if we cannot -find out where the interest lies.” - -“I will try that when I get home!” cried Squib, who was always pleased -with a new idea; “and I shall try to remember you, sir, and all the -things you have told us. I shall say to myself, ‘What would Herr Adler -say if he saw you so idle?’ I think that will help.” - -“You can think of something better than that, my little friend,” was -Herr Adler’s answer; and Squib looked quickly up into his eyes and did -not ask his meaning, for he seemed to see it written there, and his face -grew suddenly red. - -“I’ll try,” he answered, in a tone that was almost a whisper; and Herr -Adler did not ask him what he meant, yet Squib felt sure he understood. - -Seppi heard this talk a little wistfully. Somehow it seemed to him as if -his friends lived in such a different world from his own. For a moment -he felt isolated from them, almost ashamed of his humble poverty and -lowliness; and when at luncheon-time the food was brought out, he grew -shamefaced over the coarse fare which he produced from his wallet. It -did not seem fit to offer to his companions, and he began to make an -apology for it, as he had long ceased to do with Squib now. - -Then Herr Adler helped himself to a piece of hard bread and cheese, -instead of taking any of Lisa’s cakes, saying smilingly,— - -“This reminds me of my boyhood, when I and my brothers used to wander -about Silesia on foot, and make our money go as far as it would by -living with the peasants and eating their food. No; I like this, thank -you, my little friend. It revives so many pleasant memories.” - -“But it isn’t fit for you,” objected Seppi. “It is such poor fare. It is -only fit for—” - -“Now, if you don’t take care I shall serve you the same as an old friend -of mine served his wife,” said Herr Adler, with a smile, “and tell you -the same story as he told to us.” - -The faces of both boys brightened instantly. - -“Oh, please, tell us the story!” cried Squib. “I do so like your -stories, and you have so many of them.” - -“Well,” answered Herr Adler, “I will tell you this one. It happened that -one evening, many years ago now, I was taking an evening walk with some -friends of mine; and towards dusk we found ourselves near to the house -of an old friend whom we had none of us seen for a long time. Although -it was late, we thought we would call in and see him, and he gave us a -very warm welcome. We sat round the stove for a time; and then he asked -us if we would stay and have supper with him, which we agreed to do. -Now, he was not a rich man, and he lived quite simply, as German people -often do, you know. But his wife bustled about and laid the table, and -gave us an excellent supper of good milk soup, and plenty of good bread -and butter. We were hungry after our walk, and enjoyed it all greatly; -but the hostess was not at all content at having nothing better to offer -us, and she kept telling us how sorry she was she had not known -beforehand of our visit that she might have had a better supper. We told -her we wanted nothing better, but she could not be satisfied; and at -last her husband looked up at her with a smile on his face, and said,— - -“’Now wife, be content; say no more, else I tell our good friends here a -story.’ - -“At that she smiled too, and a different look came into her face; and -she answered in another tone,— - -“’Nay, then, I will say no more;’ and she did not. - -“But, then, of course, we were all very curious to hear the story, and -we pressed our host to tell it us. So when the supper was finished, and -we had gathered round the stove again with our pipes, he told us. - - * * * * * - -“Once upon a time there was a prince, and he went a-hunting in a great -forest near to his castle. Now this prince, like so many of the princes -in stories (and, perhaps, in real life too), was a rather self-willed -and self-confident young man, reckless in his ways, and bent on doing as -he chose. And it came to pass that upon this day he outrode all his -followers and nobles in pursuit of the quarry, and presently found -himself quite alone in the heart of the great forest. He blew his horn -again and again, but nobody came to his aid; and he did not know which -way to turn, nor even in what direction his castle lay. He was quite -lost. He was getting very tired too, and it was growing dusk. Also he -was extremely hungry, for he had not tasted food since the mid-day meal -in the forest, and now it was long past the hour when he generally -partook of a sumptuous repast. - -“At last, as he was growing quite desperate—having wandered hither and -thither for over an hour, and the light beginning now to fade quite out -of the sky—he found a little track in the wood, and following it eagerly -in hopes of coming across some hut or habitation, he reached a little -clearing in which stood a charcoal-burner’s rude hut. But the hut itself -was empty, for the charcoal-burner was busy over his meiler a few yards -away—so busy that he never so much as observed the approach of the -prince.” - -“What is a meiler?” asked Squib. - -“I do not know whether there is an English word for it,” answered Herr -Adler. “It is a word that belongs to the charcoal-burner’s craft. You -know that charcoal is wood burned in such a way as to leave behind it -the charcoal fit for use; and the way in which this is done in the open -forests by the charcoal-burners is by making first a heap of wood, and -then covering it up with earth. The earth heaped over it keeps the fire -in check when the wood is burning. The charcoal-burner has to watch very -carefully, sometimes raking the earth away to let the fire burn more -freely, sometimes heaping more on to keep it in check; and the great -heap he makes of wood and earth is called a meiler.” - -“I understand,” answered Squib. “Now, please, go on with the story.” - -“Well, the prince looked about him, and seeing the old man a little away -off, he hailed him, and called out,— - -“’Can you tell me the way out of the forest? I want to find the way to -the road which leads to the town. You know it, I suppose?’ - -“’Oh yes, I know it well enough,’ answered the old man, and began to try -to make the prince understand how to go. But he soon interrupted, -saying,— - -“’My good fellow, how do you suppose for a moment that I could find such -an intricate path as that in the dark?’ - -“Then the charcoal-burner stroked his chin, and replied,— - -“’Well, I was just thinking that maybe you would only lose yourself -worse by trying it.’ - -“Then the prince got rather vexed, and said impatiently,— - -“’What’s the use of that, I should like to know? You must just come with -me, my good fellow, and show me the way yourself.’ - -“But at that the charcoal-burner broke into a gruff laugh. - -“’_I_ go with you, indeed! _I_ leave my meiler to take care of itself -whilst I show you the way out of the forest! That’s a pretty thing to -ask! Why, sir, if I were to leave my meiler for a quarter of an hour as -she is now, the whole batch of charcoal would be spoiled. Why, I must -watch her half the night through, as a cat does a mouse. Leave my meiler -to show you the way out of the wood! No, my fine gentleman, that I can’t -do;’ and the old man laughed again at the notion. - -“For a moment the prince was inclined to be angry, for he was not -accustomed to be spoken to in that free and easy way; but he reflected -that the man did not know him, and was quite right to do his work well -and conscientiously. So he checked the impatient words that rose to his -lips, and asked quietly,— - -“’But, my good friend, if you cannot leave your meiler, pray, what am I -to do? I have no wish to get hopelessly lost in the forest, and, -perhaps, fall a prey to wild beasts.’ - -“’Well, sir, then why not stay here for a few hours, till the meiler has -cooled down, and I can go with you through the forest? I’ve a fine, -comfortable hut over yonder, and a bed fit for a prince, so soft and -warm. You can have it, and welcome, since I must watch by the meiler -till dawn. As for your horse, he will find plenty to eat if you turn him -loose. He will shift for himself well enough, never fear.’ - -“’Oh, the horse will do well enough; I’m not afraid for him,’ answered -the prince. ‘It’s of myself I am thinking. I am really starving; I’ve -had nothing to eat for hours. What am I to do for supper? Where can I -get something to eat?’ - -“’Oh, as for that, I’ll share my supper with you,’ answered the old man -readily. ‘You know the saying that tells us, “Where one can dine, two -can dine.”’ - -“’Well,’ said the prince, who had by this time got off his horse and -removed saddle and bridle, so that the animal could feed at will, ‘I -must needs accept your hospitality for the night, since there seems -nothing else to be done.’ - -“The charcoal-burner had gone back to his meiler, and was heaping on -earth here and there; but presently he came back again, and said -cheerfully,— - -“’Come, sir, I will show you the hut—such a beautiful hut. Not a drop of -rain can find its way through the roof; and as for the bed, why, you -need never wish for a cleaner or softer one. I made it myself from dried -moss and fern and pine needles. A prince could not wish a better; and -for sleeping, there’s nothing like it. Why, I fall asleep almost as soon -as I lie down, whether by day or night. Come and see.’ - -“The prince followed him into the little dark hut, where he soon blew up -a few sparks of fire, and lighted some dry twigs, which blazed merrily. -The prince could see that the hut was clean, though so small and dark, -and the charcoal-burner pointed to the bed in the corner. - -“’There, sir, you can make yourself comfortable there; and I’ll get the -supper as fast as I can.’ - -“The prince was so tired that he was glad enough to stretch his limbs -even on such a rude couch as that one; but he was too hungry to go to -sleep yet. - -“’Make haste with that supper, my good friend,’ he kept saying. ‘I hope -you have something good to give me.’ - -“’Oh, excellent,’ answered the old man, who was dividing his attention -between his meiler and his guest, often darting out to the former, but -coming quickly back again to his hospitable cares; ‘good bread and -plenty of it, and the most excellent cheese. Why, it gives me an -appetite even to think of it! It is all so good. Drink, did you say, -sir? Why, to be sure. There is water in the brook—such fresh, sparkling -water! Why, no prince in his palace could have better. Oh, you shall sup -well, sir; never fear. Everything is of the very best.’ - -“The good man spoke with such hearty conviction that the prince could -not but smile. However, he was so hungry that he really found pleasure -in eating the coarse fare of the peasant, and was ready to agree with -him that the food was excellent. The spring water was clear and pure, -and the cup from which he drank, although only of earthenware, was quite -clean, though the prince could not but feel amused to think what his -knights and servants would think could they see him sharing the supper -and resting on the bed of the old charcoal-burner. - -“But the peasant could not linger long; his meiler required his constant -presence. He slipped away, and the shadows fell in the hut. The prince -stretched himself upon his bed of moss and leaves, and was soon in a -sound, dreamless slumber. - -“When he awoke the sun was up in the sky, and the charcoal-burner’s task -was for the present over. The meiler could now be left to cool down -unwatched, and the old man was at liberty to guide his guest through the -forest towards the town. - -“So the horse was caught and saddled, and the prince mounted, whilst the -peasant walked beside him and showed him the way through the intricate -forest paths. - -“’No wonder I lost my way!’ cried the prince, ‘it is a veritable -labyrinth!’ - -“Prince and charcoal-burner talked together in friendly fashion whilst -they journeyed on, and at last the old man paused, and pointed through -the trees towards something gleaming white before them. - -“’That is the great road, sir; now you cannot lose yourself any more. -Turn to the left when you reach it, and it will take you straight to the -town. You will see the castle tower to guide you when you have gone a -little way. The prince lives there, as perhaps you know.’ - -“’Have you ever seen the prince?’ asked the traveller. - -“’No, sir, never. They say he is a fine young gentleman, and often hunts -in the forest. I hear the horns sometimes, but I have never seen him.’ - -“’What do the people say of him? Does he do anything else but hunt in -the forest?’ - -“’Why, that’s more than I know, sir, having no concern with the affairs -of princes. I have my meiler to mind, and he has his country. If he’s a -wise prince, he will know better than to spend all his time a-hunting. -And now, sir, I will wish you good-day, and go back. I have my day’s -work to do in the forest.’ - -“But when the prince would have rewarded the man and paid him for his -hospitality, he drew back hurt, and would not accept a penny. He was no -innkeeper, he said. The gentleman was welcome to all he had had, and it -was plain that he would have been much pained had the prince insisted on -paying him. - -“’Well then, my good friend,’ said the prince, ‘since you will not let -me pay you anything, you must come some day and sup with me at my house, -since I have supped at yours. That is fair enough; you cannot say nay to -that.’ - -“’Well, sir,’ answered the peasant, ‘if you will have it so, I will -come; but you must tell me where you live, else I shall not know where -to go when I get to the town.’ - -“’Oh, as for that, I will send a servant for you one of these days,’ -answered the prince, ‘and he will show you the way.’ - -‘Well, and provided I have not my meiler to watch I will come with him,’ -answered the charcoal-burner; and then he turned back into the forest -and went back to his hut (little knowing it was the prince he had -entertained) whilst the prince rode home to his castle, and turned up -safe and sound, to the great relief and satisfaction of his gentlemen. - -“A few days later, as the charcoal-burner was sitting at the door of his -hut one fine evening, a grand servant rode up and told him he had orders -to fetch him to sup at his master’s house. The peasant knew then that -his guest had not forgotten his promise, and he made ready to go with -the man, brushing up his poor clothes as well as he could, and washing -away all the traces of his smutty toil off hands and face. Then he went -with the servant, and as they neared the town he saw many men wearing -the same livery walking about in the streets; and presently his guide -took him through a great gateway into the castle itself; and the -charcoal-burner stopped short in affright, and said,— - -“’But I must not enter here! Surely this is the prince’s castle!’ - -“’Why, yes,’ answered his guide, ‘and it is the prince who has sent for -you to-day.’ - -“The old man was greatly astonished and rather troubled at this; but he -had to go on now, and followed his guide into a room which seemed to him -wonderfully large and beautiful, where a splendid banquet was laid out, -of which he was bidden freely to partake. - -“When the different dishes—almost more than he could count—were placed -upon the table, the servants withdrew and left him to eat his supper in -peace alone. It was the most wonderful experience he had ever known. He -tasted the dishes one after the other, finding them all so good he could -not tell which was best. There were choice wines too, which he sipped as -he ate, and before very long he had made the very best meal he had ever -eaten in his life, and could really eat no more. - -“Then the door at the end of the room opened, and in came his guest of a -few nights back. There was something about his dress and aspect which -assured the charcoal-burner that it really was the prince himself, and -he rose to his feet and made a respectful salutation, reassured by the -smile with which he was greeted. - -“’Well, my good friend, and have you supped well?’ - -“’Oh, most excellently, your highness,’ he answered respectfully, ‘I -have supped like a prince,’ - -“’Why, so you do in your own hut, according to your own account!’ -answered the prince smiling; and then he went up to the table and looked -at the dishes there, and his face grew dark and angry. He began finding -all manner of fault with first one thing and then the other. This dish -was too much cooked, another too little—nothing was done right. He had -something bad to say of every one. And so he went on decrying the good -food in a haughty and supercilious way, till he suddenly caught sight of -the charcoal-burner’s eyes fixed upon him with a look of terror. - -“’Why, what _is_ the matter, my good friend,’ he asked. ‘You look as if -you had seen a ghost!’ - -“The old man looked nervously over his shoulder, though he tried to -regain his self-possession and to smile back. But his face was pallid, -and his hands shook nervously. The prince was very curious. - -“’What is the matter?’ he asked. - -“’Oh nothing, nothing, your highness. But with your highness’ permission -I will wish you good-evening and return home, giving my humble thanks -for this most excellent supper.’ - -“But the prince came and laid a hand upon his shoulder. - -“’Nay, my friend,’ he said kindly, ‘but tell me first what is the -matter. When I came in, you were happy and at ease; but all in a moment -your face changed, and you have been trembling ever since. What was it -that you saw to frighten you? Tell me that.’ - -“Then the old man trembled more than ever and said,— - -“’Nay, your highness, ask me not that; for if I tell you, you will be -angry and will cast me into prison, and I shall be undone.’ - -“’No, no,’ answered the prince quickly, ‘I will never do that. I give -you my word as a prince. Now fear not, but tell me all. No harm shall -come to you, I promise it!’ - -“’Your highness,’ said the old charcoal-burner with his eyes on the -floor, “it was like this. As you stood there, looking at all that good -food and calling it not fit to eat—food for pigs, and I wot not what -beside—I suddenly felt a cold wind pass over me that made me shiver from -head to foot; and when I looked up to see what it was, behold I saw a -terrible face looking over your highness’ shoulder, and it seemed to me -that it was the face of the devil himself!’ - -“When the prince heard that, he was quite silent for many minutes, and -stood like one who is thinking deeply. The charcoal-burner stood silent -and abashed, not daring to raise his eyes; but presently he felt the -prince lay a hand upon his shoulder and say to him in a kind voice,— - -“’My friend, thou hast well spoken, and thou hast well seen. I will not -forget that vision. But shall I tell you something that I saw out in the -forest, when I sat at your table, and heard you praise your food and -call it good and excellent? Well, perhaps I did not see it as clearly as -I should, for mine eyes were holden, but I very well know that it was -there—a beautiful angel standing all the while beside thee, and I trow -that the name which he bears is called the Angel of Contentment.’” - - * * * * * - -Herr Adler paused, and the boys, who had both been listening with deep -attention, simultaneously drew a long breath. Seppi’s face was full of -earnest thought, which brought the colour into his cheeks; and it was -Squib who cried out eagerly,— - -“Oh, thank you for telling us the story. Do you think it is true?” - -“I think it teaches us a great truth, my dear children,” answered Herr -Adler kindly; and meeting the gaze of two earnest pairs of eyes, he -added, “I am quite sure, for one thing, that, when we speak slightingly -and disparagingly of the good things God has given us, and either from -vanity or discontent despise and make light of them, it is the devil or -one of his angels who puts such thoughts into our hearts. But when we -receive everything joyfully and thankfully, neither grumbling because -our share is small, nor coveting things beyond our reach because others -have them, then the spirit of contentment and happiness takes up its -abode in our hearts; and if that is not an angel from God—well, it is at -least something very like one!” - -The smile on Herr Adler’s face was reflected upon that of the two -children; and Squib thought with loving admiration how little Seppi had -of this world’s goods, and yet how contented he was! Surely the Angel of -Contentment could not be very far away from him! But he did not say -this; it only came into his head. What he said was,— - -“I wonder the old man didn’t know it was the prince. If he had really -lived so near his castle always, wouldn’t he have seen him sometimes?” - -Then Herr Adler laughed, and answered,— - -“It does not quite follow, as I can show you by another tale, which I -believe to be quite true. It happened to the King of Prussia, the -great-grandfather of the present emperor. He was walking one day in the -outer park surrounding the castle where he was then living, and he was -wearing his undress uniform, so that there was nothing to distinguish -him from quite an ordinary soldier. As he drew near to the gateway he -saw a little boy with a donkey, and the little boy called out to him and -beckoned him to come. Very much amused, the king approached, and the -little boy said, ‘Look here, I want you to hold my donkey. I’ve got a -letter which I must leave at the castle, and I may not take my donkey -inside the gate. But if you will take care of him till I get back you -shall not be the loser. I’ll give you something for your trouble when I -get back!’ So the king took the donkey by the bridle and held him whilst -the little boy ran up to the castle and delivered his letter. Then when -the little fellow had come back, he pulled out a little silver halfpenny -(such as they had in Germany then) and gave it to the king, saying, -‘There, my good friend, that’s for your trouble, and thank you!’ and -then he got on his donkey and rode off. But the king kept the silver -halfpenny and took it home with him, and when he reached his wife’s room -he went in and held it out on the palm of his hand, and said—’See there, -wife; there is the first money that thy husband has ever earned by the -work of his own hands!’” - -Both boys laughed merrily at this story, and forgot the grave thoughts -which had gone before. But they did not forget to think of Herr Adler’s -words many times during the days that flew so happily by. Seppi never -blushed nor made excuse for the poor or coarse fare he brought with him, -and Squib would eat it as readily and with as good an appetite as Lisa’s -cakes, thinking of the prince in the wood, and how he found all so good -when it was seasoned by a good appetite. He and Seppi would play at the -prince and the charcoal-burner, and numbers of other games suggested by -Herr Adler’s tales; and he came often to see them in their favourite -valley, and Squib declared that he was sure the sun shone brighter and -the flowers came out better and faster on the days Herr Adler came. - -“He’s the most splendid man for stories that ever was!” he cried in -great admiration one day; “but I feel that, if I had as many stories in -my head as he has, it would just burst!” - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - A WONDERFUL WALK. - - -“Do come to see my home and my mother,” pleaded Squib one day; “I should -so like it—and I’m sure she would too!” - -So Herr Adler smilingly consented, and climbed up over the brow of the -hill with Squib, pointing out to him a hundred curious and beautiful -things along the path that he had never seen before, or rather, had -never noticed. There was nobody at home at the chalet when they got -there, as the ladies had gone out for a walk before their noonday lunch -or breakfast. But Squib did not mind this, for he wanted to show Herr -Adler all his collections, and to ask him a lot of questions about the -specimens he had picked up and stored away in his cupboards. - -Of course Herr Adler knew just what he wanted, and told all about it so -interestingly, that they were a long while in getting through the -collection. But Squib kept finding again and again how careless and -slovenly his work often was. He wanted to dry some plants as specimens, -but he was always in a hurry over it, and did it so carelessly that the -poor plant was quite spoiled; and even his butterflies and moths were -many of them ruined because he did not take enough pains with pinning -them down properly. When the little boy saw how patiently and gently -Herr Adler fingered the specimens, and how understandingly he treated -them, he felt ashamed of his own hasty slovenliness, and heaving a great -sigh he said,— - -“Oh, I wish I were clever like you! It must be nice to do everything so -well!” - -“No, no, my little friend, that is not it at all,” answered Herr Adler. -“You could do all this just as well as I am doing now with my big, -clumsy fingers; but you must have patience, and you must take pains. -Nothing is ever done well in this world without care and time and -patience.” - -“Ah, that’s just it!” sighed Squib, “and I’m not patient. I’m always in -a hurry to get to something else. I want to do things; but I can’t do -them well.” - -“Not all at once, of course; but if you always do your very best, it -will surprise you how fast you will get on. You often hear the saying -that if a thing is worth doing at all, it is worth doing well. Try -always to keep that in mind, and you will soon see how fast you learn to -work cleverly, both with your hands and with your head.” - -“Well, I’ll try,” answered Squib with a sigh; “but it’s very hard not to -be in a hurry sometimes.” - -Herr Adler came presently to his collection of carved animals for the -little sisters and friends at home. Squib displayed them with some -pride, and his friend spoke very kindly about them; for until Seppi had -taught him a little, Squib had had no idea of carving. But he showed -Squib, as Seppi never did, how odd many of his animals were, with -impossible horns and tails, wrong heads on wrong bodies, and legs -sometimes jointed the wrong way—all sorts of blunders, partly careless, -partly the result of lacking skill, but defects which Squib had taken as -a matter of course before. - -“They are such little things, and only to amuse the children,” said the -little boy, “you see it doesn’t much matter whether they are right or -wrong. _They_ will never care.” - -“That may be very true; but that’s not the way to look at it,” answered -Herr Adler smiling. “Are you going to be always content to carve in this -anyhow fashion? and if not, how are you going to improve, if you are -quite satisfied with a creature which has the head of a horse, and the -body of a goat, and the tail of a dog?” - -Squib burst out laughing as Herr Adler held up the nondescript animal in -question, turning it round and round in his hand as he spoke. - -“It is rather a queer one, isn’t it? But Seppi never told me they were -wrong; and Lisa calls them all _wunderschön_. I never troubled to think -whether they were right or wrong; but I will now.” - -“Do, my little friend, and you will find your work a hundred times more -interesting. See how Seppi enjoys drawing his goats, now that he is -really trying to make them like life, not just so many four-legged -creatures that might be almost anything.” - -“That’s quite true,” answered Squib; “it’s ever so much more -interesting. I’ll try that with my carving and other things; but I wish -everything didn’t take so long in the learning.” - -And then they went down to luncheon, and Herr Adler was introduced by -Squib with great pride to his mother and her friends. - -During luncheon he was so quiet that Squib was rather disappointed, -afraid his mother would not see what a _very_ interesting man he was; -but when they all went out upon the little terrace afterwards, and sat -there sipping coffee and talking, then Herr Adler was easily drawn into -conversation, and soon had all the company listening to his stories, and -asking him questions. Squib and Czar sat together on the ground -perfectly content, and though the talk was often far above the little -boy’s head, he liked to listen all the same, and to note the interest -all the ladies took in what Herr Adler told them. It was quite a long -time before they would let him go, and Squib’s mother asked him to come -again whenever he could spare the time. - -“And mother,” cried the little boy, pressing up to her eagerly, “Herr -Adler says he will take me to see a glacier ice-cave if you will let me -go. It is a long walk, but not too long for me. Please say I may. I do -so want to.” - -“If Herr Adler is kind enough to be troubled with you, you may certainly -go,” answered the lady with a smile. “It is very kind indeed of him to -be willing to have you.” - -“Herr Adler _is_ very kind,” answered Squib, looking up with happy -confidence into the smiling eyes, “and he tells me such lots of -beautiful things too. You can’t think how nice it is going about with -him.” - -The lady and Herr Adler both laughed at that, and then the guest took -his departure, having arranged for Squib to meet him at a certain point -early on the following morning. - -“Isn’t he kind, and isn’t he clever, mother?” he asked eagerly, running -back to her; and his mother put her hand upon his head and answered,— - -“Yes, Squib, he is all that—and he is better than that; for he is a -_good_ man too. It does one good to listen to him. I wish you had -brought him here before.” - -“Oh, I’m so glad you feel that too, mother,” cried Squib; “I know just -what you mean. Every time Herr Adler has been talking to us, Seppi and I -both feel as if we wanted to be better—as if we _must_ try harder and -harder. I don’t know why it is, because he often only just sits and -tells us tales and makes us laugh. But that’s just how we do feel. I -suppose it’s because what Seppi said of him is true—that he is a man of -God. I always feel that about him.” - -“And I am sure it is true,” said his mother gently. - -It was a beautiful, clear, cloudless morning on the morrow when Squib -jumped out of bed and found that it was time to dress. Early as it was, -it was quite light, although the sun would not yet for some little time -climb up high enough to look over the crest of the great mountain away -to the east. Squib dressed himself quickly, and found that Lisa was -already astir, making him a hot breakfast to take before he started, -though Squib had not expected anything half so nice. - -Then, with Czar at his heels, he ran down the slope of the hill to the -meeting-place, not forgetting to take with him his luncheon satchel, -which Lisa had stuffed extra full, nor his long iron-pointed stick which -he knew he should want when they got to the ice. - -Squib was the first at the meeting-place, but Herr Adler was not long -after him, and with him came Seppi’s brother Peter, who was to show them -the way; for the path in some places varied year by year, owing to -constant falls of rock and _débris_, and the gradual very slow motion of -the glacier itself. One place was sometimes a little dangerous, unless a -guide was taken; and Peter often earned a little money in the summer by -acting as guide to this particular spot. His father always made a -careful survey of the place spring by spring, and then showed it to -Peter before he went off to his own guide’s work in other places. - -It was a wonderfully beautiful morning. The sky was solemn and blue in -the west, where a few stars faintly twinkled; but overhead it was of a -delicate opal colour, that changed and shimmered as you watched it, -while all the east was in a glow of shifting rainbow tints—a great -streak of clear, pale green, with rosy lines across it, and beyond, -lower down, just touching the mountain side as it seemed, a golden glory -radiating upwards, palpitating with living fire, till all in a moment -the glorious sun rose, with what seemed a sudden bound, above the -dazzling whiteness of the snow, shooting forth great level shafts of -light over the spotless snowfields, and along the white dew-spangled -meadows, waking up the birds, and changing the solemn, dark pine woods -into temples full of shimmering golden rain. Squib looked and looked, -holding his breath with a sort of awe, and only just breathing out the -delighted exclamation,— - -“Oh! isn’t it beautiful? Isn’t it glorious?” - -Herr Adler’s hand was resting on his shoulder. He felt a kindly -answering pressure as the answer came. - -“Glorious and beautiful indeed, my child. But do you ever think, my -little friend, of what it will be like when the promise is fulfilled, -and when the Sun of Righteousness shall arise with healing in His -wings?” - -Squib looked up quickly with a question in his eyes. - -“No, sir; I don’t think I ever thought about it.” - -“Ah no; you are still young for such thoughts. Never mind, they will -come to you whether you will or no, as you go on in life. But believe -me, my child, that glorious day _will_ come; and when it does, the world -will see such glory and blessedness as it has never known yet. God grant -that it be near at hand!” - -And Squib said in his heart, “Amen!” though he scarcely knew what -thought it was that found an echo there. - -Then they began their walk, and a most beautiful walk it was. Having -started early, and having the whole day before them, they were in no -hurry to get to their destination, but could afford time to look at -everything as they went along, and even to turn aside to hunt for some -specimen of flower or moss in promising-looking places. Sometimes they -sat down and talked, and made Peter tell them some of the legends of the -mountains, and what the people used to believe about the ice-maidens and -the little Bergmännlein in the hills. Herr Adler knew fairy stories too, -and told them better than Peter could; and Squib listened with both his -ears, and only wished he could remember everything, to repeat it to the -children at home. - -It was such a beautiful walk! The path led through a great pine wood, -and along the side of a roaring stream, which grew narrower and narrower -as they pursued its course. And Peter told Squib that it had its rise in -the ice-grotto whither they were bound, so that it was always full of -water, however dry the summer, being fed by the great glacier itself. - -Again and again the path dipped down, and they had to cross the stream -by a little crazy-looking bridge, which seemed hardly strong enough to -bear them. Peter told them that in the winter floods these bridges were -often swept away, and had to be thrown across afresh in the spring; so -it was not wonderful that they were rather rickety affairs, and that -Czar felt rather nervous at crossing them, and expressed his displeasure -by the very gingerly way in which he stepped over them. Herr Adler and -Squib found much fun in watching him; for he would generally turn round -again with something between a bay and a growl of displeasure, as much -as to say,— - -“You’ve no business to call yourself a bridge—a few miserable poles -strapped together and thrown across; not fit for any respectable dog to -go over, let alone a man!” - -It grew hot as the sun rose high in the sky; but in the wood it was -pleasant and cool. The smell of the hot pine trunks was delicious; and -when they wanted to sit down, the beds of pine needles made a soft and -springy seat. Sometimes they came upon little clearings, where a few -huts or chalets were clustered together, and brown-legged, bare-headed -children would come out to stare, and to grin at Peter, and exchange -greetings with him in their rude patois, which Squib could hardly -understand in their mouths, though he could talk to Seppi and Peter well -enough. - -There were little herds of goats to be seen browsing on the scanty -herbage, and now and then a cow with a bell round her neck. Sometimes -they heard the sound of the cow-bells up on the heights above, where the -cattle had been taken for the summer months; but more often the valley -was very silent: there did not seem to be many birds, and only squirrels -darted about and whisked up the trees—sometimes faster than the eye -could follow them. - -Once Herr Adler made Squib come and sit close beside him, and keep -perfectly still—Peter having gone on ahead to make sure of the right -path—and presently a squirrel whisked down from a neighbouring tree and -sat up on its hind-legs gazing fixedly at them. And then, as they did -not move, it came nearer and nearer, and presently it was trying to -investigate the contents of Squib’s satchel, which he had taken off his -shoulders and laid beside him. There was a bit of paper sticking out at -the top, and the squirrel got hold of it and nibbled at it; and then he -gave it a pull, and dislodged a biscuit—to his great satisfaction—and he -got a fragment of it nibbled off, and sat up with it in his two hands, -eating it with such relish that Squib could not help himself, but burst -out into a laugh; when, whisk! the little creature was gone in a -moment—where, they could not see. - -Then Herr Adler told him that almost all wild things would come quite -close to human beings if only they remained perfectly still. It was -movement that frightened them; but curiosity would draw them to come to -anything which looked unusual; and so long as perfect stillness was -maintained, they appeared quite fearless. - -“If you had kept quite still, the squirrel might in time have come and -sat on your knee,” said Herr Adler; but Squib was not good at sitting -still very long, and when Peter came back he was quite ready to go on -again. - -They were getting near to the glacier now, and left the wood behind -them. There was some rather rough walking to do, and the sun beat down -and made them very hot; but it was so interesting to see how strangely -the rocks were jumbled up together, and to hear Herr Adler explain how -the glacier moved and ground down through the rocks with irresistible -force, that he did not mind the heat a bit: it was only Czar that -disliked the rough walking amongst the great boulders. - -Peter went on a little in front and called out to them how to go, and -sometimes came back to help them to cross a little crevasse which lay -right in their path. Sometimes when Squib looked down these little -crevasses he could see water running below, and sometimes a cold green -gleam told him that there was ice deep down beneath his feet. Sometimes -their way led them just beneath towering walls of rock, and here Peter -hurried them along rather fast, for it was in these places that there -were frequent falls of rock and _débris_, which, if travellers chanced -to be passing at the time, might very easily crush them to death. In the -spring-time when the snow was melting fast, and little avalanches kept -rolling down the sides of the mountains, these places were too dangerous -for travellers to attempt them; but now they were tolerably safe, -although it was always thought well to walk fast, and to keep eyes and -ears well open in case of any fall of stones. - -However, no mischance befell the party. They got over the dangerous -place quite happily; and then Squib drew his breath in wonder and amaze, -for he saw before him, though at some little distance, the opening to -the beautiful ice-grotto right in the heart of the glacier. - -He had never seen a glacier quite so near before, at least not such a -beautiful gleaming white one. Those he had seen with his father had been -rather disappointing, they looked so much dirtier than he thought they -would, and were so difficult to get at. But this one was beautiful, -clean, and pure, with gleaming greeny-blue chasms in it, and crisp white -ridges shining and glistening in the sun. There was a beautiful cascade, -too, leaping down its edge, and, where the sun touched it, it made a -sort of rainbow about the water. As he stood watching it, Herr Adler -told him more about rainbows than he had ever known before—how they -come, and what they are. It was so beautiful on that little platform of -rock, with the glacier all about them, and with the sunshine lying -bright upon the warm stones, that they sat down there and ate their -lunch before going into the cave; and Squib tied the handle of his -little drinking-cup to a piece of string and let it down into the -waterfall to fill, and declared there never was such delicious water. - -“It feels like drinking rainbows!” he said with a sigh of contentment, -as he emptied his cup. - -The ice-grotto was a wonderful place. Close to the mouth of it stood a -queer little hut, out of which hobbled a bent old man, ready to show -travellers the way. He looked at the party, and then his wrinkled face -kindled into a broad smile, for he had been there when Herr Adler used -to visit the place often, and he knew and remembered him quite well, and -was full of joy at seeing him again. - -Squib liked to hear the kind way in which Herr Adler spoke to him, -although he did not understand all they said, the old mans talk being -very queer indeed. But as he stood watching he turned many things over -in his mind, and he said to himself,— - -[Illustration: - - “_Down, down, down—with a crash, and a bang, and a roar!_” - - Page 169. -] - -“When I’m a man I should like people to love me, and remember me, and be -glad to see me, just as everybody is so glad to see Herr Adler. I can’t -ever be so good, or so kind, or so nice as he is; but I can try to be as -kind as I can. I think it’s because Herr Adler is always _interested_ in -everything and everybody. At least I’m sure that’s one thing. I get -bored when people talk about things that I’ve not thought about, or that -don’t seem to belong to me; but Herr Adler’s never bored—he’s always -interested. I don’t think he ever pretends—he _does_ care. He does like -to hear everything; and he cares for every single person he meets, -whether he ever saw them before or not. If he were me, I believe he’d be -nice to the girls about their tiresome dolls, and never tease them by -calling them sillies. I should like to be nice and kind to everybody, so -that everybody might love me. Of course I don’t suppose I can; but at -any rate I can try!” - -After the old man had talked a little while with Herr Adler he hobbled -back into his hut, and came out again with some little packets in his -hand; and at sight of them Peter’s face brightened, and he whispered to -Squib in pleased tones,— - -“He’s going to illuminate the cave with different-coloured fires. He is -very clever at that, but he won’t do it for everybody. I’m so glad. It -looks lovely when it’s all lighted up!” - -Then they followed the little old man along a rather dim passage, the -air of which struck very chill, and then down some slippery steps, where -they had all to tread very carefully, because there was ice under the -sand sprinkled over them. After that they went along another gallery, -and then came out into a wonderful grotto, the walls of which were of -ice, with here and there a ledge of jutting rock, and where great -icicles hung down from the roof in all sorts of queer fantastic shapes, -and great blocks of ice on the floor seemed to take the shape of monster -beasts lying crouched in corners, or guarding the entrance to the -branching passages. - -Squib wondered at first if it was his fancy that the ice looked to him -like great beasts, but Peter told him afterwards that the old man often -amused himself by chipping at the ice-blocks, and giving to them a -grotesque shape. Of course they were always gradually changing in shape, -but the carving was too rude for that to matter much. A blow here and -there would soon give it a vague shape again, and the old custodian -amused himself by the astonished remarks of the travellers. Many went -away with the firm impression that they had seen frozen or “fossilized” -antediluvian animals; and when Herr Adler heard this, a twinkle came -into his eyes, and he turned to Squib and said,— - -“Well, it is not long since an old friend of mine, who has a post in the -British Museum in London, told me of a remark made to him by a lady of -position and education, though, poor lady, she could not have used her -brains to much advantage. They had been getting in some new fragments of -statuary and so forth—from Greece, I think it was—and these great -fragments were lying about in some confusion, waiting to be set in -place. Many persons came to see them, and amongst them this lady; and my -friend found her standing looking at the broken fragment of a horse. -There was the head and neck and a small part of the body, and nothing -more. It was leaning up against the wall, and as my friend passed by, -the lady smiled at him and greeted him (for she knew him a little), and -said, ‘I have come to see your new collection. I am so interested. Now -this, I suppose, is a part of a fossil horse!’ And without waiting for -an answer she rattled on about something else; and went away no doubt -quite happy in the idea that she had seen a remarkable fossil.” - -The ice-grotto was certainly very wonderful and beautiful, and when the -old man lighted it up with coloured fire, its beauty quite took Squib’s -breath away. The red or the blue light flickered over the transparent -walls and amongst the great hanging icicles, transforming the grotto -into a fairy palace, such as the child had dimly pictured sometimes in -his daydreams. He did not wonder now that the inhabitants of these wild -mountain places, so full of wonderful and beautiful hidden places, -should have stores upon stores of legends about the unseen beings who -lived there. Squib could almost fancy he saw the shadowy outlines of the -ice-maidens hiding in the recesses of the grotto. It was not difficult -to believe that, if anybody fell asleep in such a place, he would awake -to find the world all changed about him. - -Squib, however, had no chance of making this experience for himself. -After a short time their guide took them back into the open daylight -again, and Herr Adler, looking at his watch, said that they must be -going. - -“It _was_ a lovely place!” said Squib, as they began retracing their -steps; “I think it was quite the nicest place I’ve seen. What lots of -things I shall have to tell the children when I get back! I shall never -remember half. I wonder if Czar will tell the dogs about it too? Do you -think animals do talk to one another?” - -“They certainly make one another understand things sometimes. I’ll tell -you about a dog belonging to my grandfather. He had two dogs—one a small -terrier, and the other a great Newfoundland; and these two dogs were -great friends. Once my grandfather had occasion to take a journey. It -was before there were any railways, and he had to travel in his own -carriage. He took his little terrier with him, and the big dog stayed at -home. On the second day of his journey he arrived at the house of a -friend, where he was to spend the night. And at this house was a dog -which resented the arrival of the terrier, and gave him a good mauling -before anybody could go to his assistance. Well, my grandfather did not -think much of it. He went away on the next day, taking the little dog -with him; but when he stopped to bait the horses at mid-day, the dog -disappeared, and he quite failed to find him, and had to go on without -him. He was away from home about a fortnight; and whilst engaged upon -his business he had a letter from his wife, saying that the Newfoundland -dog had suddenly disappeared, and had not been seen for a whole day. -That was the only letter he got from his wife all the time he was -absent, because he was moving about, and she could not be sure where he -would be. As he was going home, he again passed a night at the house of -his friend; and there he heard that upon the morning but one after he -had left, his little terrier dog had suddenly appeared there, with a -great Newfoundland as his companion; that the Newfoundland had set upon -the dog of the house and had given him a thorough good thrashing—if you -can use such an expression with regard to dogs—after which the two -companions had gone quietly away together. And sure enough, when my -grandfather got home, there were the two dogs, quite happy and content; -and his wife told him that, the very day after she had written her -letter, the Newfoundland had come home, bringing with him (to her great -bewilderment) his little friend the terrier, and there they had been -ever since.” - -“Oh!” cried Squib, delighted. “Then the little dog had run home and told -the big one all about it, and got him to come and fight the gentleman’s -dog for him, and then they had gone home together! Was that it?” - -“It seems as if it must have been. That is the story just as my -grandfather told it, and it is quite true. So dogs certainly have the -power of making each other understand up to a certain point, though how -far this goes I suppose nobody will ever really know.” - -By this time they had reached the rough and rocky piece of ground, and -had to pick their way carefully without being able to talk much. Peter -was on ahead, and suddenly they heard him shouting to them in a voice -which seemed full of fear; and when they looked they saw him -gesticulating wildly, and pointing up into the mountain’s side above -them, where Squib saw an odd-looking little cloud of dust coming -tumbling down. - -“What is it?” he asked curiously, pausing to stare; but when he glanced -into Herr Adler’s face he saw that it was very grave, although there was -no fear in the steady blue eyes. - -“It is a little avalanche, my boy,” said Herr Adler quickly. “Run on to -Peter as fast as you can. You see that great wall of rock under which -the path lies, run on there quickly, and stand up under its shelter. I -will follow you as fast as I can; but run you on, and take Peter with -you. That is what he is motioning us to do.” - -“May I not stay with you?” asked Squib. “I should like to keep -together.” - -“I would rather you ran on first, my child. I shall not be far behind.” - -Something in the look and tone made Squib obey, although he would rather -have kept at Herr Adler’s side. As soon as he got up to Peter, the elder -boy grasped him by the hand and hurried him along at a great pace, and -all the while he kept gasping out excited, disjointed fragments of talk, -by which Squib made out that they were just in the very track of the -dangerous falls of stone which were dislodged by the little avalanches -up in the mountain slopes, and that their only chance of safety was to -shelter themselves under the protecting wall of rock. Even there they -might chance to meet with injury, but in the open they could hardly hope -to escape. - -Squib and Peter quickly reached the shelter, and turned round in an -agony of apprehension and anxiety to see where Herr Adler was. He was -not far behind, and was making his way rapidly towards them. Squib was -glad to note that Czar remained beside him, as though with some instinct -of protection, although, poor fellow, it was little aid he could give if -the avalanche came upon them. - -“Oh, come quick—come quick!” cried Squib, darting forward to pull his -friend in under the friendly shelter of the great rocky wall; and when -they were all there together, Herr Adler found a place where a deep -crevice in the wall of rock enabled both the children to stand in almost -perfect safety, whilst he remained close to them; and they all held -their breath to listen to the strange rushing and grinding sounds above -them, which grew louder and fiercer every moment. - -“O sir, do come inside, and let me stand where you are!” pleaded Squib -earnestly; but Herr Adler smiled, and put his hand gently on the child’s -head. - -“I would rather we stayed as we are, my child,” he said. “Your mother -trusted you to me, and I must restore you to her safe and sound; but I -think we shall all of us be preserved from injury.” - -Something in the quiet tones of the voice stilled the tumult of Squib’s -spirit, though it was rather terrible to hear the gathering avalanche -rattling and bounding overhead, and to know that it was tearing down -upon them like a live monster rushing after its prey. Suppose it were to -fall upon them, even in this place, or break away the protecting rocks -and bury them all amongst them! Squib felt a shiver run through him at -the thought, and involuntarily he looked up at Herr Adler; and something -he saw in that tranquil face put new ideas into his head, and suddenly -some words came into his mind which took away all his fear. - -“For He shall give His angels charge over thee.” - -Yes, it said so in the Bible. Squib knew that, though he could not have -found the place; and in his heart he said,— - -“I am sure the angels will take care of Herr Adler. I won’t be afraid -any more.” - -Down, down, down—with a crash, and a bang, and a roar! How the mountain -seemed to be shaking and quaking. It was like thunder roaring just over -their heads. The air was full of choking dust; there was an awful crash -just beyond them, and for a moment Squib had to fight for breath. He -felt as though he were swallowing whole mouthfuls of gravel and earth. -It was so dark all round them that he could not see anything. Then the -sounds grew more distant; the air began to clear; and he heard Herr -Adler’s voice saying softly,— - -“Thank God, my children! we have been wonderfully preserved.” - -Peter and Squib crept out of their hiding-place and looked about them. -Everything was changed in the few minutes, and the path of the avalanche -was marked by a wide track of freshly-fallen rock and ice and _débris_. -Peter pointed eagerly to the still-rolling mass of snow and rock, -dashing down to the very bottom of the valley; but Squib looked up at -Herr Adler, and asked,— - -“Are you sure you are not hurt?” - -“Quite sure, my little friend. The wall of rock quite protected us; and -not even a fragment of rock fell upon us. It was all shot several yards -beyond our feet; but I am a terrible object to look at, I suspect. When -we get to the woods, I must gather a bunch of heather or creeping-rose -and give myself a brush down. Tell me, my child, were you afraid?” - -“Rather,” answered Squib truthfully, as he took Herr Adler’s hand and -walked onwards with him—Peter, as usual, keeping some thirty yards -ahead; “I was frightened till I thought of that verse about the angels -keeping watch—or having charge; and after that I didn’t mind so much. -Herr Adler, do you think that angels _do_ watch over us?” - -“I think we have good reason for believing so, my little friend. We know -that they watched over our Lord when He was on earth; and I do not think -that He had any helps or comforts here which are denied to His children. -And in the book of Daniel the angels are spoken of as being ‘holy -watchers’—the watchers, the holy ones, it says. I thought of that the -other day when you spoke of the Silent Watchers. The holy angel-watchers -are even better, are they not?” - -Squib’s eager, liquid eyes gave response; and Herr Adler continued,— - -“Nobody who believes in the Lord doubts that He watches over His -children at all times; and we know that the angels are His messengers -and ministering spirits; so it is not difficult to believe that they may -be sent by Him to watch over us, especially in times of danger. And I -think we have too many facts which cannot be disputed to warrant us in -doubting this, if we think about it seriously.” - -“Do you mean you know any stories about it? Please tell me.” - -“I know a great many—far too many to tell; but I will tell you one which -is quite true, and which I can only understand in one way. There was -once a pious merchant of South Germany who had occasion to make a -journey into Switzerland. It was in the early part of the century, when -travelling was not always safe, and he had to pass through some very -wild and lonely country. He drove in his own little cart, and went from -place to place as his business required. At one halting-place, when he -spoke to the innkeeper and the persons in the inn about the next village -he had to go to, they shook their heads, and advised him not to do so. -The place was very wild; the inn he proposed going to bore a very ill -name; several travellers going there had disappeared, and had never been -heard of since. It was thought very foolhardy of him to attempt such a -thing. Nevertheless the merchant desired to go there, having certain -things to do which made it advisable. There was one traveller in the -room who had not spoken all this while; but presently, being left alone -with him, the merchant asked him if he knew whether what had been said -was true, and if this place was not safe. He answered, ‘It is not safe; -you will run into danger; but trust in God, and you shall be protected.’ - -“Now the merchant, being a pious man, was quite ready to take this -advice, though the serious manner in which it was spoken surprised him. -But the traveller went out, saying nothing more; and the next morning -the merchant started on his journey without seeing him again. The roads -he had to traverse were very lonely and bad, and it took him much longer -to get to his journey’s end than he had expected. Indeed, it was growing -dusk before he saw any signs of the place, though he had particularly -wanted to get there before dark. At last he came to the unwelcome -conclusion that he was quite lost, and this was rather a serious matter -in so wild and lonely a country. But whilst he was wondering what he -should do, and whither he should turn, he suddenly saw the traveller of -the previous evening riding towards him on a white horse. He hailed him -with great satisfaction, and the traveller not only put him into the -right road, but rode with him to the place, and to the inn, which, at -that time of night, was the only house open in all the town. It looked -very suspicious and ill-omened, and the looks of the people were as bad -as they could be; but the two travellers got supper and bed, and their -two rooms opened the one into the other, which was reassuring. - -“’You take the inner one,’ said the traveller to the merchant, and so -they arranged things; and although the merchant had an uneasy impression -of creeping steps and hushed voices about the house that night, nothing -happened; and he went on his way next day safe and sound. But again he -had some very bad roads to traverse, and again at nightfall he found -himself quite lost. He was in the heart of a great forest this time, and -the tracks were so confused and intricate that he was perfectly -helpless; and again he could only pray that God would send him help. -Suddenly his horse stopped dead short, with a snort of terror. The -merchant tried to urge him on, but he would not go; and almost at the -same time he again saw his fellow-traveller on the white horse riding -towards him. ‘Take care!’ he said. ‘Do not urge on your horse; you are -close to the edge of a deep gravel-pit. If your horse had not seen the -danger, you would have been dashed in pieces. But turn round and come -with me. I will put you into the right road.’ So he brought him through -the forest and set him on the high-road, and showed him the lights of a -neighbouring town, and was about to bid him farewell when the merchant -detained him to say, ‘Sir, I am greatly beholden to you. I owe you my -very life, and that twice over, I think. Will you not tell me who you -are, and whence you come?’ Then the traveller answered, ‘I am the -messenger from the Shining Mountain; and I am doing my appointed duty,’ -and with that he waved a farewell and rode away. - -“Now, you know that the German name Leuchtenberg—or ‘shining -mountain’—is a very common one in many parts of the country, and almost -any conspicuous building on a hill is called the Leuchtenberg. Indeed, -when the merchant awoke next morning, he saw a white-walled castle on a -hill not far away, which the people called the Leuchtenberg; and before -setting out for home, he went up thither, and asked about the messenger -on the white horse who was sent to warn travellers of their danger. But -nobody there knew anything about it. There was no such man and no such -horse as he described: no messenger was sent out for any such purpose. -And the merchant went away in some perplexity and awe; and he ever -afterwards believed that the traveller was a messenger from God sent to -protect him in the time of his greatest peril. But he never knew more -than what I have told you.” - -Squib, who had listened with his habitual eager earnestness, now drew a -long breath, and said,— - -“It is a beautiful story. I must remember it to tell the children at -home. I think I can understand it better to-day. I think, perhaps, it’s -the mountains, and the ice, and all the beautiful things I see every -day; but it does seem as if there might be angels to take care of us. I -shall try never to be afraid now if things are dreadful. I know _you_ -weren’t afraid just now, though Peter and I were. I call this a very -wonderful walk. I like it better than any walk I’ve ever taken before.” - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - A STORY AND A FAREWELL. - - -“Going away! O Herr Adler—don’t go away! We can’t spare you.” - -So said Squib in vehement dismay, catching hold of one of Herr Adler’s -hands as he spoke, as though he would restrain him by force. - -“Why must you go?” continued the child eagerly. “You are grown up: you -can do just as you like. Ah, do stay as long as I do!” - -“So that is your idea of being grown up—to do just as one likes,” said -Herr Adler, with his amused smile, which always made Squib feel as if he -were thinking of all manner of things unknown to the world at large. -“Well, perhaps you are not so far out, my little friend; for I do not -only like my work, I love it with all my heart. A holiday sometimes is -very pleasant and restful; but, after all, it is the work that is the -best part of life.” - -“Oh!” cried Squib, “it isn’t so for us—for children, I mean. It’s all -beautiful out here amongst the mountains; but I can’t bear to think of -going back, and just having stupid, tiresome lessons to do. It will be -so dull!” - -“Dull!” said Herr Adler, in a voice which brought a sudden wave of red -into Squib’s cheeks; “dull to learn all sorts of wonderful and -interesting things about the great wonderful world we live in! Why, what -did you say to me the other day about finding everything so interesting? -And now you call your lessons dull. Why, that is nonsense!” - -“Oh, if _you_ taught me my lessons they would all be interesting,” -answered the little boy quickly; “but some people can’t make anything -interesting; and then—and then—” - -Herr Adler nodded his head several times, with one of his grave smiles. - -“Yes, you may well say, ‘and then—and then—’ and stick fast. Can’t you -make things interesting for yourself? How is it your games are all so -interesting?—your collections and your carving? Why, because you are -interested; because you want to learn and to know and to do more and -more, and better and better. And your lessons will be just as -interesting—no matter who teaches you—if you just make up your mind that -you _want to know_. Not long ago I met in company one of the cleverest -men living. It was in a very mixed gathering, and there were all sorts -of very different people there. I watched this gentleman a long time. He -went from one to another, and again and again I heard him say, ‘I want -to know’ this—’I want to know’ that. No matter to whom he talked, he had -always something to ask. He always wanted to know. You take him as an -example, my little friend. You want to know—and you will find nothing -dull.” - -Squib looked bright and eager, yet he sighed a little nevertheless. - -“If I only had you living near, and could see you sometimes, I think I -could feel like that. But I’m afraid the feeling will go off by-and-by, -when I get home. I feel as if it would be different when I live in -another place. If I lived always in this valley, full of such -interesting things—like Seppi—I should be so happy! I should love to see -the snow come down, and live in one of those queer little chalets, and -look after the goats, and carve things all day; and wait for the spring -to come again. But one’s own work seems so tame and stupid. I wish we -could sometimes change with other people!” - -Seppi’s eyes opened wide as he heard the little Herr speak so. He did -not _say_ anything, but his face plainly told that he thought exactly -the opposite—that it was his own life which was dull, and the little -English boy’s full of pleasure and variety. Herr Adler, looking from the -one face to the other, and putting down his hand into the depths of his -great pocket, said with a smile,— - -“Why, I think I shall have to read you a story which a young friend of -mine wrote, and sent to me the other day, asking my opinion of it. I -read it out of doors last evening, and have it in my pocket still. It is -funny we should begin talking about our work, for that is what the story -is about.” - -Squib’s face lighted at mention of a story, as did Seppi’s also. - -“Oh, please read it to us,” he said eagerly. “Has it got a name?” - -“It has a motto, which perhaps will do as well; I wonder if you are -Latin scholar enough to translate it. My young friend has called it—’Via -Crucis, Via Lucis.’ Can you construe that?” - -“It is something about a cross and light,” said Squib, after -considering. - -“Yes; it means—’The Way of the Cross is the Way of Light.’ Now, I will -read you the story; and then perhaps you will understand better.” - -And so Herr Adler read:— - - - I. - -Many long years ago a child dwelt in a quaint old city, and laboured -diligently to earn his daily bread. He was fatherless and motherless, -and nobody paid much heed to the lonely boy. - -Now, hard by that city, just without the walls, stood a great monastery, -wherein lived men called monks, who dwelt apart from other men, and -thought best to serve God by renouncing those things which men hold -dear, and giving themselves to fasting and prayer. - -For many hundreds of years men believed that God could best be served -so; and some of the monks led very pious and godly lives. The rich and -great of the earth called them holy men, and often gave to them great -gifts in money or land, to be spent to the glory and honour of God. And -when the monks were faithful to their vows, this money entrusted to them -was spent either in relieving the necessities of the poor, or in the -erection of churches or other buildings to be used for the honour and -glory of God. - -At the time of which I speak—long, long ago—when the child dwelt in this -city, a stately church was being built hard by the monastery walls, and -it fell to the lot of the boy to labour with the masons, and to hand -them the heavy hodfuls of mortar as they stood upon the scaffolding at -their toil. - -Day after day they toiled at their work, and the child with them; and, -behold, the days grew very long to him, and waxed more and more -wearisome. The hodfuls of mortar seemed to become heavier day by day; -and when he saw other children passing by, laughing and singing in their -play, his heart cried out against the hardness and dreariness of his own -life. Instead of looking upwards, and taking pleasure in the progress of -the stately building, and his own humble share in the pious work, he was -looking ever earthwards, and his heart grew heavy within him. - -Now it came to pass that the monks from the monastery hard by came -ofttimes to the place where the workmen laboured, and watched the walls -of the church rising ever higher and more high, and sometimes worked -with their own hands upon some of the beautiful carving in stone or wood -with which it was to be adorned; for to these pious men there was no -drudgery in work that was done for the honour and glory of God; and they -looked forward with longing for the day when the voice of prayer and -praise should ascend from these walls, and when men should learn ever -more and more of the nearness of His abiding presence in His church. - -One of the monks who oftenest came to watch or to work was called Father -Gottlieb—and his very name seemed to show something of the nature of the -man, for Gottlieb means “the love of God;” and those who looked upon the -gentle face, which bore traces of fastings and prayers and vigils, could -see that love shone forth from his deep-set eyes, and could hear it in -the tones of his beautiful voice. - -For Father Gottlieb had a voice that sometimes sounded like a trumpet -call; and since he had been dedicated to the service of the Lord from -his youth, and had been long resident within the walls of the monastery, -the men of the city had come to love and revere him, and even the rough -workmen hushed their loud voices, and were ashamed of their idle jests, -when they saw the tall form of the monk approaching. - -Sometimes as he stood and watched the work, a look of rapture would -steal into his eyes, and he would utter words which had a beautiful -sound, albeit not all of those who stood by knew what was meant by them. - -It chanced one day, as Father Gottlieb was looking on at the builders’ -toil, that he stood close beside the child of whom I have spoken, and -looking up to heaven he cried,— - -“Blessed are those who are counted worthy to serve Him! Yea, thrice -blessed, for their reward shall be great!” - -Then the child, looking up into the face of the monk, took courage to -ask a question. - -“Of whom dost thou speak, holy father? Who are these blessed ones?” - -And the monk laid a hand upon his head as he answered,— - -“All are blessed—thou and all thy fellow-labourers; for ye serve a -gracious and kindly Master, who will bless all your toil for Him.” - -But the child answered and said,— - -“Nay, but mine is a hard taskmaster. Day by day do I do my part, and -toil in the heat of the sun. Yet ofttimes he gives me harsh words, and -never a blessing. I am weary to death of such service.” - -But the monk looked down at the child with a searching gaze and made -answer,— - -“Ah, my child, thou hast not yet learned whom thou dost serve. He is no -harsh Taskmaster. He is gracious and loving, and full of compassion and -tender mercy. And blessed are those who are permitted to toil for Him, -and raise up temples to His honour and glory!” - -But the child understood him not. He thought only of his earthly -taskmaster, and in the face upturned to the monk was nothing but -thankless discontent and wonder. Father Gottlieb was gazing upward, -where high up in the dazzling blue air the builders were toiling at the -soaring spire of the church, and raising his hand and pointing -heavenwards, he asked,— - -“What dost thou see there, my child?” - -Then the child looked, and made answer,— - -“I see the builders busy at their work.” - -But the monk answered and said,— - -“I see the smiling of the Master’s face.” - -Then the bells began to sound forth the Angelus, and the monk went back -to the monastery, for he had his appointed work to do, and might not -linger longer. And the child took up his task again. - -Night by night as the child lay upon his rude bed he thought of the -father’s words, but he comprehended them not, for his heart was full of -bitterness because of the hardness of his own lot, and the thankless -toil which he had grown to hate. - -“The master is not kind,” he cried aloud. “He is a hard taskmaster. He -chides me oft. I never see a smile upon his face. I will no more of his -service. To-morrow I will go forth into the wide world, and find fresh -paths to walk in. I will no longer serve. I will be mine own master.” - -For the child thought only of an earthly master, and knew not that he -was set in the world to serve the Master in the heavens as well. - -So when the day dawned he arose from his bed, while all the world yet -slumbered, and wandered away from his home. - - - II. - -Ah, how sweet it was to stand in the early sunshine, free as the -sunbeams themselves! drinking in the pure morning air, listening to the -glad warbling of the happy birds as they flew hither and thither in the -green woodland! - -Sweet, indeed, were the voices of nature, and yet the child’s soul was -not attuned to their harmonies. For each and every one of them sang of -the appointed work given to him to do in the wonderful and mysterious -realm of Nature; and the child had made a vow that he would toil no -more, that he would be no servant; so the voices of Nature, which it was -given him to understand, fell ofttimes upon unwilling ears. - -Yet, though he could understand the voices around him, he was not -surprised. It seemed as if the dewy morning had woven some spell about -him, and as if he were in some sort changed, albeit in very truth that -same child who had fled from the city, and from his appointed place, -that he might be free from service. Nor did his heart misgive him one -whit for the thing that he had done. - -Climbing up a mountain he presently came upon a brook, rippling down -over the rocky boulders. Weary and footsore he sat down beside the clear -water, dipping his hot feet into a cool, deep pool, and listening the -while to the song of the laughing stream as it leaped or glided down the -side of the mountain. It sang of the rocky cavern whence it came, fed by -some unseen springs in the depths of the hills, of the avalanches which -fell with the melting of the snow from the heights above, of the green -meadows in the valley below, towards which it was hastening, and even of -great cities through which it must pass, and where it must do an -appointed work, before it reached the great and boundless ocean towards -which it, like all water, was for ever trending. - -But when the child heard this song, and saw how the water foamed and -dashed amongst the rocky boulders, instead of choosing the softer spots -for its channel, he cried aloud, and said,— - -“Brooklet, wherefore dost thou choose such a toilsome way for thyself? -See yonder, where the flowers bloom and the moss makes a soft carpet! -Turn aside from those cruel rocks, and linger where all is fresh and -fair and sweet; and haste not to the haunts of men, where there are toil -and trouble! Why wilt thou not rest and play here in this pleasant -place?” - -But the brooklet answered and said,— - -“Thou talkest foolishly, O mortal child! Not mine the choice. I have my -appointed course and work set for me. I do but follow where the Master -points the way. Amid rocks and melting snows I gather strength and -volume for my journey; but I may not linger to disport myself in green -valleys. I have a work to do for the Master, and He it is who bids me -ever forward and onward. I am here to do His holy will.” - -But the child waxed angry, and said,— - -“Hadst thou laboured as I have in the heart of the city, thou wouldst -not talk thus. Thou wouldst turn aside and do thine own pleasure. For -sweet is freedom!” - -“Nay,” murmured the brooklet, “sweet is service for Him. And blessed are -they who serve the Master in His appointed way.” - -Presently the child, being footsore and hungry, sought a place of -shelter for the night, and finding himself in his wanderings at the door -of a farmhouse, he craved food at the hands of the good folk there and a -night’s lodging. These, taking pity on his loneliness, gave him bread to -eat and milk to drink, and allowed him to make his bed amidst the -fragrant hay in a loft above the cowshed. - -That night, waking from the sleep of exhausted nature, he thought he -heard the sound of voices beneath, and looking through a wide crack in -the floor, saw that the cattle below were conversing with one another, -nor did it surprise him, after all that had occurred to him that day, to -find that he understood what they said to each other. - -“Oh, how my bones do ache!” grumbled a young bullock, who had been -working at the plough (as is the fashion in the country in which the -child lived), “I have been yoked to the plough all day. And now I shall -have but a few short hours’ rest before they take me forth again.” - -“And we,” answered a pair of strong white oxen, who were greedily -munching their fodder, having been that night brought into their stalls -quite late, “we have been worse used than thou, brother; for we were up -with the sun, and have been working till he set, dragging I know not how -many loads of hay from the meadows to the yard. Truly our case is an -evil one! And to-morrow will be like to-day. And after the hay comes the -harvest, and nothing but work, work, work from morning till night. Ugh! -Ugh!” - -“Nay, but is it not a great and blessed thing, my brothers, to share in -the beautiful harvesting of the earth?” questioned a gentle-faced brown -cow with a white star on her forehead. “Methinks it is a gracious and -goodly task to prepare the brown fields for the sowing of the seed, and, -again, to help in the joyful ingathering. For the hearts of all men are -glad with great rejoicing, and they will bless the Master who has sent -the gracious harvest blessing; and we who have toiled and laboured will -assuredly not lose our share in the gladness and the reward.” - -“Ah!” said the young bullock impatiently, “it is easy for thee and such -as thee to talk! Thou dost not labour day after day in the heat of the -sun, as I am called upon to do!” - -“Nevertheless,” answered the meek cow, “I have had many a burden to bear -in my time; and I have had my moments of impatience and murmuring. But I -have learned to love my bondage now, and to seek happiness in service; -for all that we do is done for the Master, and it is His desire that -each one of His creatures shall serve Him in the appointed place and -way. Yea, and blessed is all work done for the Master. May He accept it -and bless it to the world!” - -Then the elder cattle bowed their heads and said, “Amen!” but the child -started up and cried,— - -“O foolish beasts, which know not the power ye possess! Rise up and -break the bonds which bind you! Rush forth free and untamed into the -wide world!” - -But the cattle heeded him not, standing silent in their stalls. Only the -swallows stirred and twittered in the eaves above, and the child -presently sank to sleep again. - -But, when the day broke, he rose and crept away from the farm, for he -thought, “If I stay here they will perchance seek to make a servant of -me, and I am no man’s servant now!” - -Nevertheless, in this he greatly erred, for whether he willed it or no, -he was born to the service of God. - - - III. - -For many days the child wandered on through the smiling fields whitening -for the harvest, and ever and anon as he neared some village he would -see bands of reapers going forth to their toil, singing glad songs; or -would meet them returning home at the close of the day, weary, yet -rejoicing in the glorious weather, and in the bounteous harvest which -God had given them. Many amongst them would speak kindly to the child, -and he always had food given him when he needed it; yet he would -presently slip away from those who would have befriended him, saying in -his heart,— - -“These are all workers and toilers. Perchance, if I remain with them -they will ask labour of me;” for his heart was yet set against any sort -of toil, and as he went along and saw how the world toiled and laboured, -he rejoiced to think that no man could ask service of him. - -Anon he came, upon one hot, sultry day, to a village. The wide street -was empty, for all the world was out in the harvest-fields, but the -great trees which bordered the road on either side gave a grateful -shade, and from the neighbourhood of an open door, half-way down the -street, came the cheerful ring of a blacksmith’s hammer. - -The child, being hot and weary, and disposed to linger in the shade, -drew nearer, and, pausing by the open door, seated himself upon an -upturned barrow and idly watched the flying sparks, and listened to the -creaking of the bellows. - -Many horses were waiting to be shod, and the smith attended to them in -turn. But presently he gave a nod to his companion, who disappeared for -a while, and he himself came out wiping his heated brow, and seated -himself beside the child, in the cool shadow of the tree. - -From beneath the barrow he drew forth provision for his mid-day meal, -and, marking the weary and wistful face of the child, he gave him food -and drink in abundance, and as they dined together he talked to him -kindly. - -“Whence art thou, boy?” he asked; “for I know not thy face, albeit I -have lived here, man and boy, all my life.” - -“I am from a far city,” answered the child; “a city that lies beyond -yonder mountains.” - -“Nay, that is far indeed!” said the smith; “and whither away now? For -thou art over-young to wander alone through the world.” - -“I know not,” answered the child, and then he suddenly crimsoned, he -scarce knew why, as he felt the eyes of the smith rest gravely upon him. - -“Is it well to fly from the nest where the hand of God hath placed us?” -questioned the man with gentle severity: the child hung his head and -gave no answer. - -Dinner being ended, the smith arose and girded on his leather apron -afresh; then he turned into the forge and grasped his heavy hammer. But -the child eyed him in surprise. - -“It is so hot at noonday,” he said; “surely thou wilt rest awhile ere -thou dost labour again?” - -The smith smiled as he swung his hammer, and blew up his forge with the -great bellows. - -“Nay, child,” he answered, “rest cometh at night, and sweet it is to the -weary who have earned it by the labour of their hands in the appointed -place; but the day is given us by the Master for work, and He looks that -we fulfil our allotted tasks with the best that is in us. Look, too, at -yon patient horses, waiting to be shod, and think of the loads of golden -grain awaiting to be drawn homeward by them! Suppose a thunder-storm -comes up to-night, and the grain is not housed because the horses be not -shod, and that because the smith was sleeping the noontide hour away -when he should have been at work. A fine story that for the Master’s -ears!” - -But the child looked about him round the forge, and said,— - -“I had thought it all belonged to thee.” - -“Ay, so it does,” answered the smith, “and was my father’s before me.” - -“Then why canst thou not rest at thy will, since no man is thy master?” - -But at that question the blacksmith turned upon him, and cried with a -loud voice,— - -“Child! Though the forge be mine, and the anvil and the iron, yet my -time is not mine own, for I serve a Master to whom I must give account -of each day as it passes. Yet,” he added, in a gentler voice, “He is -full of compassion and tender mercy, and hath pity on the weakness of -His children.” - -And something in the good man’s face made the child ask,— - -“Dost thou find pleasure, then, in His service?” - -And the blacksmith answered,— - -“His smile is worth far more than ten thousand pieces of silver. Ah, my -child, thou hast still much to learn, seeing that thou knowest not as -yet thy Master.” - -But the words fell on unwilling ears, and in his heart the child said, -“I have no master;” and presently, while the smith worked, he crept away -in the lengthening shadows, for he feared lest the good man might seek -to make him his fellow-labourer at the anvil. - - - IV. - -Days and weeks rolled by, and the child still wandered on. He met -kindness from the people through whose villages he passed, and food and -shelter were given him, else must he surely have died. But though his -bodily needs were satisfied, a great hunger of the heart arose within -him that was less easily appeased, for it seemed to him that he was -quite, quite alone in the world, and that he had nothing to do—no part -or lot with the busy life he ever saw about him. - -The faces of the workers were happy, but his grew pale and thin. Men and -boys sang at their toil, or called cheerily to one another, and the -women in the houses laughed as they watched the gambols of their -children, and would throw pitying glances on the toil-worn little -traveller. He was never turned away from a hospitable door where he -craved food or shelter, yet his loneliness grew ever greater and -greater, and at last his strength began to fail him, till he ofttimes -felt he could scarcely drag himself along the road. Yet he still strove -to journey on, he scarce knew why, save that he feared always, if he -remained in any place, that he would be made a servant by the good -people who befriended him. - -This was why he would not stop, though almost too ill to trail himself -along, until it came to pass that one day he fell beside the road, and -lay there near unto death. - -Now the place where he fell was a very lonely one, hard by a great wood, -and for a long while nobody passed that way, but anon there came by a -man, who, when he saw the child, stopped and looked earnestly upon him, -and, seeing that he was very ill, lifted him in his arms and bore him -away to his own dwelling, which was in the heart of the great wood -itself. - -For many days the child lay upon the good man’s bed, and it seemed as -though the Angel of Death hovered very near to him; yet God had mercy on -the boy, and raised him up from his bed of sickness, and the care of the -kind master of the house was rewarded. - -Little by little the child was able to take note of the things about -him, and to sit up in bed and see what went on; and that which struck -him most as he watched the good man of the house was, that he was never -idle. What it was that he did the child did not at first know, for he -worked outside, and all the boy could hear was the ceaseless sound of -tools, mingling often with the music of some song or chant which the -worker would croon to himself. It sounded like carpentering work, the -child thought, and as his strength returned he began to desire to go out -and watch it. So one day, feeling stronger than he had done before, he -rose and dressed himself, and made his way out into the sunny garden, -glimpses of which he had seen all this while through the open casement -of the window. - -The garden was very full of flowers, which showed signs of tender care; -and to the right was a carpenter’s shed, with all the tools and -implements, and certain articles standing about, some only just begun, -and others quite or almost finished. The master of the house was not in -the shed, but sitting in his garden, and in his hands he held a great -piece of wood, fashioned in the shape of a cross, upon which he was -carving, with wonderful skill and fidelity to nature, a wreath of -flowers, copying these from the blossoms which bloomed around him. - -When the child appeared, and timidly drew near, the good man greeted him -with a smile. - -“What art thou doing?” asked the child, “and wherefore dost thou put -such strength and skill into a bit of wood? Is it not hard work to carve -it thus? And of what use is it when done?” - -With another smile the worker made reply,— - -“It is hard work, truly, my child, but it is blessed work too, for this -cross is to bear a message of comfort and hope to one who will rejoice -to hear it.” - -But the child’s face was full of perplexity, and his eyes asked the -question which his lips knew not how to frame. The master of the house -looked searchingly at him, and then said,— - -“Knowest thou not, my child, that the cross is the symbol of all the -pain or trouble or toil of this present life, which we are called upon -to bear, and to share with Him who bore the cross for us, and who has -said, ‘If any man would follow me, let him deny himself, and take up his -cross and follow me?’ And yet, because He _hath_ borne the cross first, -He hath hallowed and sweetened it for us. So that we who carry our -crosses for love of Him, seeking to follow in His footsteps, find them -so covered with flowers that we grieve not at their weight, but rejoice -always in the fragrance of the flowers.” - -The child answered nothing, and the man presently spoke again, pointing, -as he spoke, to a little wreath of smoke that curled up from behind the -trees. - -“In yonder cottage lives a sick woman upon whom the Lord has laid a -heavy cross of pain and suffering. But she takes it from His hand, and -makes no murmur. This cross, covered with the forms of beautiful -flowers, I am fashioning for her.” - -Day by day, as the sun sank to his rest and the master of the house, -putting aside his daily task, took out his cross and worked at the -flowers on it, the child came forth and sat beside him, watching him and -hearing him talk, and little by little it seemed to him that scales fell -from his eyes, and that some change he could not understand was wrought -within him. - -When the cross was completed, he went with the maker of it to the humble -cottage where the suffering woman lay, and he watched the light deepen -in her eyes as she beheld the gift, and heard the words which the giver -spoke of it. - -As they left the cottage together, he stole his hand into that of his -friend, and asked,— - -“Why does she have that pain to bear? Is it not cruel of the Master to -send her such a cross?” - -“Nay, child,” answered the good man; “we must not speak thus. The Master -knows best. He gives to each his own cross, and blessed is every one who -bears it after Him in meekness and lowliness of heart.” - -“Have we _all_ a cross to bear?” asked the child. “I love not to bear -nor to suffer. Fain would I enjoy my life and be happy!” - -“And so thou shalt be, even in the cross-bearing, O child, if thou wilt -walk after the Master and serve Him,” answered the master of the house. -“Hear His own words: ‘Come unto me all that be weary and heavy laden, -and I will give you rest!’ There is no rest, no earthly happiness that -can compare with that which the Master gives to those who come to Him.” - -“But how can we come to Him?” asked the child; “and how can we bear our -crosses after Him when we know not what they are, nor where to find -them?” - -But at that question the good man smiled and laid his hand upon the head -of the child, drawing him between his knees as he seated himself anew in -his garden. - -“We have no need to seek crosses for ourselves, my child. The Master -gives to each one of us that which He would have us carry. Often it may -be no heavier a one than the day’s toil as it comes to us, wrought for -Him with the best that is in us. All that we do can be done for Him. He -has said so—and blessed be His name! Our daily toil is sometimes hard -and cheerless of itself, but borne as the cross after the Master, it -becomes sweet and blessed to us. The cross blossoms with flowers beneath -His smile. Oh, taste and see how gracious the Lord is. Blessed is the -man that trusteth in Him!” - -Tears stood in the eyes of the child as he heard these words. He laid -his hand upon that of his instructor and said,— - -“Suffer me to dwell with thee and learn thy craft, and all that thou -canst teach me. I would fain take up my cross and follow the Master. I -would work with thee and for thee, and learn to serve others as thou -dost.” - -But the master of the house looked long and earnestly at him, and -answered with tender gravity,— - -“No man putting his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the -kingdom of God.” And as the child gazed at him with wondering and -uncomprehending eyes, he added, still very gently, “It is not for us to -choose our path, nor the cross we think is lightest and pleasantest to -carry.” - -Then the child’s conscience suddenly smote him, for he remembered the -hods of mortar he had left lying in the great city, beside the -unfinished church, and great tears rolled down his cheeks as he began to -understand that _there_, and there alone, lay the cross which the Master -had given him to bear. But although he wept bitterly, yet his purpose -did not falter. He would go back to his appointed task, and seek the -cross he had flung away in impatient despite. - -So he said farewell to his friend, who gave him a blessing with tears in -his eyes, and began his weary and toilsome journey. Long and hard did -the road seem, and often his heart wellnigh failed him, but still he -pushed manfully on, for he had learned to look upwards for help and -strength. He knew who was his Master. - -He met many kindnesses to cheer him on his way, and now when food and -shelter were given him, he would strive to repay his hosts ere he -started in the morning by some simple act of service—cutting wood or -carrying water, or even amusing a fretful child while the mother -prepared the morning meal. Service was no longer hard and distasteful to -him, for he strove to do all for the Master. - -Many a time did some kind woman offer him service in a pleasant -homestead, and greatly would the child have rejoiced to be saved the -rest of that toilsome journey; but the memory of his forsaken task would -come afresh upon him, and he resolutely journeyed on. - -“Not mine, not mine the choice,” was the cry of his heart; “I must bear -the cross the Master laid upon me!” - - - V. - -At last, as he journeyed onwards, he saw the walls of the city rise -before him, and hastening onwards ever faster and faster, he approached -the familiar town just as the last rays of the sun were illuminating the -walls of the monastery and lighting up the beautiful white walls of the -church. But what had come to those walls all this while? The child -looked, and rubbed his eyes and looked again. For the structure which he -had left all rough and unfinished was now a beautiful and stately -building, complete in every detail, and upwards into the blue air soared -the tapering spire, crowned with its cross, pointing ever upward towards -the heaven beyond. And from within the building came a sound of music, -like to the sound of many waters; and the child could hear the words of -praise and thanksgiving that told of the pious joy which filled the -hearts of the worshippers. And as he watched, it seemed to him that a -great glory filled the air, and that a cloud of golden light descended -upon the church, while grand, beautiful voices from within and without -sang the glorious words of promise,— - -“The kingdoms of this world shall become the kingdom of our God and of -His Christ, and He shall reign for ever and ever.” - -Then the child suddenly understood the end and purpose of that toil -which he had shunned—to raise a holy house of prayer and praise that -should teach men how to live and work that this glorious kingdom might -the sooner come. - -Now as he stood, watching with a full heart, he felt a touch upon his -hand, and saw a hurrying throng going by, and one spoke in his ear and -said,— - -“Child, haste! haste! the Master hath come and calleth thee!” - -And another voice took up the word and said,— - -“He calleth for all those who have helped to rear this temple to His -honour and glory.” - -Then the child suddenly broke into bitter weeping, remembering how he -had rejected his share of the work, and had left his hodfuls of mortar -lying on the ground. Yet, in spite of his grief and shame, he was borne -along by the crowd, and was aware of a strange and wonderful shining, -the like of which he had never seen before; and casting himself down -with his face to the ground he confessed his unfaithfulness, and prayed -for the forgiveness of the Master. - -Then it seemed to him that a hand was laid upon him, and a face looked -down at him in infinite compassion and love, and a voice said in his -heart,— - -“Thy sin is forgiven thee. Arise and go in peace. Take up thy cross and -follow me.” - -And in his rapture the child smote his hands together and cried aloud,— - -“O Lord, thy servant heareth!” and in so speaking he awoke. - -Yes, he awoke, and behold it was all a dream! And he found himself lying -beside his hodfuls of mortar beneath the unfinished walls of the church, -while the men lay about resting from the mid-day heat, or eating their -noontide meal. - -All a dream! And the child’s heart was full of joy; for he was still -here, at his post. He could take up his cross and bear it in the -Master’s strength, for the Master’s sake, and look forward in joy and -hope to that glorious day when the Kingdom should be his for ever and -ever. - -And so deeply was the vision graven on his heart, that from that day -forward toil was blessed to him, and his cross blossomed with flowers, -for his work was done with all his might in the power of the Lord, -wherefore it was a joy to him and not a source of sorrow; his heart was -full of thanksgiving and praise. - -Father Gottlieb noted the change in the once pale and sorrowful face, -and pausing beside the child one day, he pointed upwards and asked,— - -“What dost thou see there beyond, my child?” - -And with a smile of beautiful radiance the child made answer,— - -“I see the shining of the Master’s face.” - -Then the good monk passed on his way rejoicing, and said in his heart,— - -“Behold His servants shall serve Him, and they shall see His face. -Hallelujah!” - - * * * * * - -The children were quite silent for several minutes after the reading of -the story. Probably both entered more into its spirit than either could -have explained. Herr Adler looked first at the one and then at the -other, and finally asked smiling,— - -“Well, am I to tell my young friend the author that two little boys have -liked her story, and have learned something from it?” - -“Oh yes, please,” answered Squib, drawing a long breath; and then, after -another fit of silent musing, he burst out in his sudden fashion,— - -“O Herr Adler, I will try! I will try!” - -Herr Adler did not ask what it was that Squib would try to do; but from -the kind and gentle look that came into the good man’s face, the little -boy knew that he had been understood. - -It was very hard to say good-bye. Squib needed all his manliness to hold -back his tears; and Seppi’s flowed freely down as their kind friend held -their hands in his for the last time, and blessed them both, and kissed -them before he took his way down the green slope. Squib went with him a -little way, but would not leave Seppi for long, and with another rather -husky good-bye, he turned just as the path entered the pine wood, and -ran back to Seppi. - -He found him lying on the grass, still crying; but he soon wiped away -his tears and sat up. - -“I shall see him again—somewhere. He said so himself; I am sure it is -true. I shall see him again some day. But we shall miss him so! There is -nobody else like him in the world. Oh, little Herr, I am so glad that -you have seen Herr Adler!” - -And Squib answered with earnest gravity— - -“And so am I; _very_ glad!” - - - - - CHAPTER X. - A MOUNTAIN STORM. - - -“He is more of a squib than ever,” laughed Colonel Rutland. - -“I told you he was too good company to be left at home.” - -“He’s a walking compendium of instruction, information, and anecdote,” -added Mr. Lorimer. “I always told you, Rutland, that that boy hadn’t got -his square head for nothing. He will make his mark some day.” - -“We’re talking about you, Squib,” cried Uncle Ronald, catching sight of -the boy. “Come along, we’re just starting for a walk. You shall tell us -a story as we go.” - -“Where are you going?” asked Squib. - -“To the head of the glacier over there. It’s about five miles off they -say; is that too much for you, eh? - -“Five miles from here to the glacier,” said Squib, with a little twinkle -in his eye; “but how far from the glacier to here?” - -Then as the pedestrians looked at him and made no answer, the smile -beamed all over his face, and he said,— - -“I’ll tell you a story. There was an Austrian lieutenant, and he had -ridden to Vienna from Prague. He was dining with a noble lady, and at -table they were talking about the distance it was between the two towns. -The lady turned and said, ‘You have just come, sir; you can tell us how -far it is from Vienna to Prague.’ Then the young man put his hands -together and said, ‘Excellency, I can tell you exactly the distance from -Prague to Vienna, because I have ridden it; but I have never been from -Vienna to Prague yet, so I cannot tell you how far it is.’ Then -everybody began to laugh, and the lady said, ‘But, my dear sir, it is -the same.’ But he put his hands together again and said, ‘Excellency, -from Easter to Pentecost is forty days, but from Pentecost to Easter is -three hundred and twenty days! The distance from Prague to Vienna I can -tell you, but the distance from Vienna to Prague I do not know.’” - -“He was a smart fellow,” remarked Uncle Ronald laughing. - -“Yes, he was very funny,” answered Squib, who having been, as it were, -wound up, was prepared to “go off” considerably longer. “I will tell you -another story about him. He was dining at an inn called the Golden Lion, -and several of the people were teasing him and making fun, because he -was so funny and silly. And the waiter who was attending them came up -and asked him a riddle, and said, ‘Who is it?—my father’s son, but not -my brother?’ And he couldn’t guess, so by-and-by the waiter smacked his -chest and said, ‘Why, myself of course,’ and then everybody roared with -laughter, so that the young officer thought it must be very funny. Just -a few days afterwards he was dining with the noble lady again, and at -dinner he said suddenly, ‘Excellency, let me ask you a riddle. Who is -it?—my father’s son, but not my brother.’ The lady said directly, ‘Why, -yourself, of course.’ ‘No, Excellency,’ he said, putting his hands -together, ‘not myself—the waiter at the Golden Lion!’” - -The gentlemen laughed heartily at the story, and at Squib’s way of -telling it, unconsciously imitated from Herr Adler. - -“I suppose that’s another of your new friend’s stories? He must have had -a wonderful memory, if he’s anything like what you represent him.” - -“You couldn’t guess half how good and how clever and how interesting he -is if you hadn’t seen him yourself,” answered Squib with enthusiasm. -“Mother understands a little, because he once came here; but nobody -could find out everything in one afternoon.” - -For some little time Squib was the regular companion of his father and -uncle on their walks; and he quoted Herr Adler morning, noon, and night, -to the great entertainment of the party. These expeditions, many of them -very interesting ones, helped Squib over the blank which Herr Adler’s -departure had made in his present life. It was Herr Adler’s stories that -he quoted to the walking party; but in his heart he turned over many of -the other lessons he had received from his friend, and made numbers of -resolves, many of which were never entirely forgotten or set aside. - -But after spending a week or two at the chalet, the mountaineers went -off for another spell of climbing at some distance. More visitors -arrived from England to keep company with the ladies; and Squib found -himself once more free to resume his old habits, and to return to the -Valley of the Silent Watchers, which always drew him like a magnet when -he had nothing else to do. - -How Seppi’s thin face did light up with pleasure at sight of his friend! - -“It seemed as if everything went away together when Herr Adler was gone -and you had gone too,” said the little goat-herd with patient sadness. -“I know I oughtn’t to say ‘everything,’ when there’s so much left. I did -try to think of all the things the good Herr Adler had told us. It -helped a great deal; but I am so glad to see you back.” - -“I’m glad to come,” answered Squib truthfully enough, “I think I like -our quiet days the best. But what will you do in the winter, Seppi, when -I’ve gone right away to England, and Herr Adler won’t be coming, and you -can’t go out on the hills and draw, and everything is different?” - -Sudden tears stood in Seppi’s eyes at the question. He had grown to love -Squib with that kind of passionate love that often grows up in the heart -of a child, and becomes almost a pain at last. Squib had, as it were, -rooted himself into the very fibres of his heart. He had not seriously -faced the thought that the little boy was only a bird of passage; that -he was here just for a few short weeks, and then would go away, perhaps -never to return. He had built up a fanciful idea of his own that the -grand people from England, of whom the peasants spoke with reverence and -respect, had bought the chalet for their very own, and would often come -to it; and Squib had spoken so much of his love for the valleys and -mountains that Seppi might be pardoned for thinking he meant to stay -there always. To the peasant boy Squib appeared like a little prince, -able to come and go and do as he would; and surely if he loved mountains -and the free mountain life so much, he would be able to come very often -to enjoy them, and stay a long time when he came. - -“But—but—you are not going away, are you?” he faltered; “and you will -surely come again?” - -“I’m not going away yet—not for a good many weeks,” answered the other -little boy, “but by-and-by we shall have to go back. I think we’ve got -the chalet for three months. And I don’t know about coming again. You -see I shall be going to school soon, and then there will only be the -holidays—and those, I suppose, will be spent at home. When I’m a man, I -think I shall often come to Switzerland and climb mountains, and do lots -of nice things; but I don’t think that will be for a good many years. -None of the others have ever been abroad, and this is just a treat for -me before I go to school.” - -Seppi’s tears flowed silently down his cheeks as he heard this, and as -he gradually came to understand from his comrade’s explanations that -Squib was not a fairy prince, able to come and go at will and do just -what he liked, but a little English boy, bound by many rules and -regulations, and with a regular round of duties mapped out for him for -many years to come. His visions of constantly seeing the little Herr on -the hills in summer began to dissolve like dreams at waking time, and -his heart seemed to grow strangely heavy as he realized that he might -not see his little friend any more after he once left, until both had -grown to manhood. - -“And it takes such a long, long time to grow up!” he sighed. “Peter is -older than I, but he isn’t grown up, though he has been talking of it -and waiting—oh, ever so long! What shall I do when I never see you any -more—and the years when Herr Adler doesn’t come either?” - -“I’ll write to you,” said Squib suddenly, putting out his hand and -laying it on Seppi’s; “I’ll write you a letter every quarter, and I’ll -send you paper and chalk sometimes by parcel post;” and then warming -with his subject, he went on in his vehement fashion, “and I’ll send you -an envelope with one of your Swiss stamps on it, if I can get them, and -you shall send me a drawing back, and if you can, you will write me a -letter too, and tell me how you are, and how Moor is, and Ann-Katherin, -and everybody, and the goats. Then we shall seem always like friends, -and if I ever can I’ll come and see you; only I can’t promise, because I -shan’t be able to do as I like till I’m a man.” - -Making plans like this was the best substitute for Seppi’s vague dreams -of always having Squib near at hand. As the days flew by they made more -and more detailed plans about keeping up some sort of a correspondence, -and both were pleased to think that this friendship would not vanish -away when the boy was carried off again to England. - -All this while Squib had never seen Seppi’s home, save at a distance. -The little goat-herd never went back till after Squib had left him in -the afternoon, and he was too lame to wander about for pleasure. -Moreover, there were the goats to think of and care for, and it had -never occurred to him that the little Herr could feel the smallest -interest in so poor a place as his home. - -Squib, however, had often looked across at it and wondered what it was -like inside; but he had not invited himself there in case Seppi’s mother -might not like it. Yet he had a great wish to see her, and Ann-Katherin -too, and had sometimes thought he would ask Seppi to go home early some -day and let him accompany him. - -But before he had ever got to the point of doing so, a sudden visit was -paid by him to the chalet in a quite unexpected fashion. - -For some days it had been very hot indeed—so hot that the little boy had -felt indisposed for anything but to lie about in idleness, and even the -goats had done little but crowd together in the shelter of the rock and -nibble a little bit of grass in quite a lazy way. The dogs seemed to -enjoy the sultry weather most, lying side by side in the sun and basking -there to their hearts’ content; but sometimes it became too hot even for -them, and they would retire panting into the shade with their tongues -out, or trot down to the brook for a drink. - -Hitherto the summer had been very fine and calm. Once or twice the boys -had heard a rumble of thunder far away, but it had never come near them. -Seppi had told Squib many stories of the violence of the summer -thunder-storms in his valley, and Squib had wished he might see one; and -now it seemed as if this wish were to be gratified. - -It was the fifth of these very hot days. Squib thought it was the -hottest day he ever remembered in his life, and wondered if India could -be hotter. He and Seppi had to get under the great rock, where the shade -was densest, for the pine trees did not afford nearly enough shelter. - -The sky was cloudlessly blue, and the mountains opposite looked nearer -than they had ever done before. The Silent Watchers seemed to have even -advanced a few steps nearer each other, and Squib felt that if any -persons had been climbing their shining white sides, he would have been -able to watch their movements. There was a great silence over the world, -and, as Squib expressed it, “everything sounded hollow.” He could not -well have explained what he meant by this obscure saying; but Seppi -understood in a moment, and said,— - -“Yes, I think there will be a storm by-and-by. We must watch for it. If -it comes it will be a bad one.” - -“I should like to see a bad storm,” said Squib; but Seppi shook his head -doubtfully. - -“They are not always nice. Sometimes they are rather dreadful. Mother -did not much like me to go so far to-day; but I knew you would be here.” - -“Yes, I didn’t know you ever stayed away. But if you would like to be -nearer your home—” - -“Oh, I don’t mind. If it looks like a storm we will move. But it is too -hot now. I think Moor will know if one is coming. He is so sensible.” - -Both dogs were rather uneasy, though, perhaps, not more so than was -accounted for by the great heat. They kept out of the sun’s rays to-day, -and sometimes paced or moved about as if unable quite to get -comfortable. - -The boys lay on the dried moss and talked without attempting to work; -and after they had eaten their dinner, for which neither felt any great -appetite, they must have dozed off to sleep, for they were brought to a -consciousness of their surroundings by the uneasy whining of Moor about -his little master; and when they hastily sat up, they found that a -change had come over the look of things. - -Away in the east opposite them the sky was still blue and cloudless, and -the snow glittered and shone as brightly as ever; but behind them had -come up a great mass of purple-black clouds, edged with an angry livid -red, and the air felt not only hot, but full of sulphur. - -Seppi started to his feet with a little cry of alarm. - -“The storm! the storm!” he cried. “Little Herr, we must run for shelter. -Come with me! come to my home. You will never get to yours. And you must -not go through the woods. The storm has come, and it will be a dreadful -one. Oh, why did I go to sleep?” - -Seppi was already summoning his goats by the familiar calls they knew so -well, and Squib had his arm about him to help him down the hill. - -“Run on without me!” cried Seppi, “I am so slow. You can’t miss the -way—straight down the path and across the plank bridge, and there is the -chalet just ahead of you.” - -But Squib only held him tighter by the arm. - -“We will go together. I will help you,” he said. “Czar will take care of -the goats, and they know their way home. Come along,” and as Moor came -up to his little master to help him, the party was soon on its way down -the side of the valley, Seppi finding the help of Squib’s arm much -better than that of his crutch. - -Crash—bang—roar! - -What an awful noise it was! and coming so close upon that blinding flash -of lightning that Squib, who had learned something of the nature of -thunder-storms, knew it must be dangerously near. Seppi knew it by -experience, and gripped his comrade tighter by the arm. The air about -them grew suddenly dark and stifling, the valley seemed filled with -booming voices calling and shouting back to one another. Squib would -have stopped to listen had not Seppi hurried him on. - -“Don’t waste a minute. It’s coming right on us. Ask God to keep us safe. -It’s going to be an awful storm!” - -These words, panted out in gasping fashion, awoke in Squib’s heart a -sense of personal peril which he had never before experienced in his -short and protected life. - -“Is it dangerous?” he asked in a low voice; and Seppi squeezed his arm -as he said,— - -“Men and beasts are killed on the mountains every year when these storms -come. Oh, I ought not to have slept! I promised mother not to get into -danger. Little Herr, do run on and get into shelter. It doesn’t matter -what happens t—” - -The sentence was not finished; for so terrible a flash of lightning -smote across their vision that both children started, clung together, -and shut their eyes. Then just overhead, as it seemed, came that -terrible crackling and crashing and roaring, echoed back from the -mountains till the sound seemed more than human ears could bear. Squib -involuntarily covered his, and hid his face till the violence of the -explosion had passed, and when he looked up again it was to find himself -enveloped in wreaths of suffocating vapour. - -Seppi’s white face seemed to be looking out of a strange halo, and he -caught the gasping words,— - -“O little Herr! your dog—your dog!” - -Squib started, dashed his hand across his eyes and looked round him. A -few yards from them stood Czar, upright, motionless, in a strange -posture. And even as the boy looked, wondering at Seppi’s cry, the huge -creature dropped suddenly over on his side as if he had been shot, and -lay motionless and rigid. - -“Czar! Czar!” cried Squib, making a quick step forward. “Seppi! what is -it?” - -“He was struck by the lightning,” answered the little peasant, “I saw -it. I once saw a goat killed that way. It seemed as if fire was all -round him for a moment, and the ground seemed to shake. Didn’t you feel -it? He was dead in a moment. I know how lightning kills. O little Herr, -don’t cry. It couldn’t have had time to hurt him. And it might have been -you—or me. It might have been both of us.” - -With an awed face Squib realized this truth. Well, indeed, might it have -been either or both of them. He was too much shocked and bewildered for -tears, and Seppi drew him insistently onwards, past the corpse of the -noble hound—Squib could see for himself that no spark of life was left -in him, and did not seek to linger—down towards the bridge, casting -apprehensive glances behind him as he did so, towards the huge bank of -lurid cloud. But the next minute—following almost immediately upon that -fatal lightning flash, came a sudden gust of wind rushing up from behind -them, and waking every pine tree in the valley into a whispering, -moaning life; and as he heard that sound Seppi cried out,— - -“Come quick! quick! The rain will soon be on us; and we must get across -the bridge before it comes.” - -For a breathless three minutes they scrambled down—the goats having by -this time taken themselves homewards as fast as their nimble feet would -carry them—and reached the bridge before any fresh development had taken -place. But as they set their feet upon it the heavy cloud suddenly -seemed to open its mouth in passing, and down came—was it rain? Squib -gaspingly asked himself; it seemed rather as if the river itself had -risen up and was tumbling bodily over them. - -With a splash and a crash, and a roar of another kind, fell the torrent -of lashing rain. Close as the two boys were to the chalet, they were wet -to the skin before they reached it. It was just like being in the sea, -Squib thought, when the great breakers come tumbling over you. He was by -this time so blinded and bewildered by the terrific violence of the -storm that he felt as if it were all part of a confused dream; and when -he was drawn into shelter by kind, motherly hands, and heard around him -a confusion of sympathetic voices, it was quite a number of minutes -before he could really make out what was happening, or whether he was -asleep or awake. - -Gradually, however, the mists cleared from his eyes. He found himself in -a strange room, standing before a fire of wood and stuff like peat which -gave out a queer smell, and burned in a black-looking stove, and seemed -not to have been lighted very long, though it burned hot and fiercely. -There were three people in the place besides himself and Seppi—a woman -with eyes like Seppi’s, dressed as all the Swiss peasants are, and with -a kind, motherly face, who was taking off his wet jacket and calling out -to somebody else to bring clothes from the press for the little -gentleman; a little girl with her hair tightly braided, and a pair of -very quick black eyes, who darted off to do her mother’s bidding; and a -big boy, many sizes bigger than Seppi, who was helping his brother off -with his soaked garments, and talking to him about the storm in the rude -dialect which sounded rougher from his lips than from the others’. - -Everything went so quickly and briskly that, before Squib had time to -collect his ideas, he found himself wrapped in queer but dry garments, -perched on a rough chair by the side of the stove, while his own clothes -were spread out in the heat to dry, the motherly woman keeping up a -constant flow of pitying talk, and the little girl staring at him with -her bright black eyes as if she would never stop. - -“You are Ann-Katherin,” said Squib, speaking for the first time. - -She smiled all over her face and came a step nearer. - -“You are Seppi’s little Herr,” she said; “I know all about you. But -where is your big dog?” - -A spasm crossed Squib’s face. - -“He is dead,” he answered in a low voice; “the lightning killed him just -now.” - -Ann-Katherin’s face was full of vivid sorrow and sympathy. - -“Ah, the poor Hündchen! And he so beautiful and faithful. Ah, but Seppi -has told me of him, and I love him. Oh, these cruel, cruel storms! They -kill so many every year—men and beasts. But the good God took care of -you and Seppi. You were not hurt?” - -“No,” answered Squib a different look coming over his face, “we were not -hurt. He took care of us.” - -That thought hindered Squib from any outbreak of sorrow over his lost -favourite. Deeply as he grieved for the poor dog killed in a moment, he -could not but feel that a sense of awed gratitude and thankfulness for -his own escape must keep back his sorrow for the poor dumb animal. He -was quite old enough and quite imaginative enough to realize the -intensity of his own peril. God had protected him in the time of his -danger. It would be ungrateful, therefore, to make too great a -lamentation for the death of poor Czar. - -“We will bury him to-morrow,” said little Ann-Katherin. “Peter will dig -him a grave. We will have a beautiful funeral. Seppi shall carve a -headstone, and we will always remember him.” - -This thought comforted Squib, and was afterwards carried out and from -that day forward the little boy often found his way to the chalet on the -other side of the valley. - -The storm had done much mischief to the garden, and Squib was pleased -and proud to help to make things neat and tidy again. Seppi had taken a -bad cold from his wetting, and was not able to go out to the hillside -with the goats. They fed nearer home with Moor and Ann-Katherin to tend -them, and the others worked about the place, and Seppi did what he -could, and carved a headstone (of wood) for Czar during his leisure -moments. He was also engaged upon a portrait of the hound, enlarged from -some of his many studies; and when Squib had this presented to him in a -little frame, made by Seppi also, he almost cried with pleasure and -gratitude. - -“But I wish Seppi would get strong and well again,” he said to his -mother when displaying his treasure; “I want us to go out together to -feed the goats again.” - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - PLANS AND PROJECTS. - - -“Hullo! Here is Squib without his satellite. Will wonders never cease?” - -Squib looked up with a start as this voice reached him, and found -himself face to face with Uncle Ronald. He had been looking very serious -as he came up the hill towards the chalet, but now his face beamed all -over. - -“Uncle Ronald! You have got back.” - -“Yes; got back an hour ago, a few days before we expected. We’ve had a -grand time of it. We’ll tell you all about it in good time. But what are -you doing without Czar? He has not deserted you surely?” - -The tears sprang suddenly to the child’s eyes. - -“Czar is dead,” he answered slowly. - -“Dead!” echoed Uncle Ronald, drawing his lips together in a low whistle. -“You don’t mean it, Squib! What took him off?” - -“He was killed by lightning in the storm,” answered Squib, turning his -face away as he spoke. - -“Killed by lightning! Good gracious! What a frightful thing! And where -were you at the time, Squib?” - -“Close by,” he answered, and then was silent a long time. The young -uncle did not like to ask any more questions; but Squib suddenly broke -out in his impetuous fashion,— - -“We were trying to get to the hut. Seppi said it would be a dreadful -storm. Czar was a little in front, and the goats had run down far ahead. -There had been one awful flash, and everything was dark and smelt as if -the giant had been mixing his chemicals down in his cavern and had had -an explosion; and then just as we got nearly down to the bridge there -came another worse one, and _such_ a clap of thunder! It made me hide my -eyes, and when I looked up Czar was just tumbling over. Seppi said he -had been struck—he had seen it. He has seen things like that before. He -was dead in a moment. Seppi said it did not hurt him.” - -“Poor old fellow!” said Uncle Ronald softly. But whether he meant the -dog or the boy he did not explain. - -Squib was silent for several moments, and then burst out again,— - -“We buried him with military honours. I took my flag, and there was a -gun in the cottage, and Seppi’s mother let Peter fire it over his grave. -Seppi has made a headstone, and Ann-Katherin has planted some flowers on -it. I’ll take you to see it some day.” - -“All right, old chap; I’ll go and drop a tear for our faithful old -friend Czar. But you must have had rather a narrow shave yourself, -youngster. How far off were you when this happened?” - -“Not very far. Czar always kept near me. Seppi thinks about twenty -metres. That’s what mother said. She cried when I told her, and I -thought she was crying for Czar; but she said they were partly tears of -joy, because I hadn’t been hurt—nor Seppi.” - -Uncle Ronald’s face was grave as he drew the child towards him. He, too, -felt that he had come very near to losing his small nephew. - -“I think I might have been killed but for Seppi,” pursued Squib. “He -made me come back with him when he knew the storm would be bad; and it -was worse up the hill where I should have gone if he hadn’t said I must -come with him. Lots of trees were struck. They are lying about still -right across the path. I shouldn’t have known what to do; but Seppi did. -Seppi knows a great deal about the mountains. He is a very nice boy. We -are great friends.” - -At this moment Colonel Rutland appeared, and his greeting to Squib -showed that he, too, had heard the story of the boy’s narrow escape, and -was feeling some considerable emotion at the thought of it. - -Squib soon found himself telling the story of the adventure in detail, -and how kind Seppi’s mother had been in drying his clothes and keeping -him warm by the stove all the time; and how Peter had set off in the -pouring rain, directly it was safe to leave the hut, to take word to the -chalet that he was safe, and to bring him down some dry garments, for -his own were not fit to put on till the next day. - -“I knew mother would be afraid about me,” said Squib; “but I didn’t mean -Peter to go. I wanted to go myself as soon as the thunder and lightning -stopped, but Seppi’s mother wouldn’t let me. Peter went instead. Peter -is a very nice, brave boy—although Seppi is really my friend.” - -He was silent for a short time, and then began again,— - -“Father, I wish I might do something for them!” - -“For your friends in your favourite valley? Well, Squib, what do you -want to do?” - -“I don’t quite know. I have so many plans. Father, haven’t I a lot of -money in the bank? You know my godfathers and godmother always send me -sovereigns on my birthday, and mother puts it in the bank. I think I -must have a lot there now; haven’t I?” - -“Well, according to your ideas, I daresay you have. Twelve or fifteen -pounds, perhaps.” - -To Squib that seemed a perfect fortune. His eyes shone brightly. - -“Father, would that be enough to buy a cow? or enough to send Seppi to a -school where he could be taught drawing and wood-carving, so that he -could make his living? You know he is lame, and he is very delicate, -too. He got a bad cold in the storm, and he has coughed ever since. I -think if he could be sent to some warmer place in the winter, and be -taught a sort of trade, it would be a very good thing. Do you think my -money would do that? And do you think I might give it to him?” - -“We will think about it seriously,” answered Colonel Rutland smiling, -“since it does seem as if Seppi’s promptitude and presence of mind had -saved you from possible danger. What is the name of this family in which -you are so much interested?” - -“Ernsthausen,” answered Squib at once; “and Lisa knows all about them. -They have lived here a long time.” - -But Squib suddenly found that his father was not listening any longer, -but had turned to Uncle Ronald. - -“Ernsthausen! Can it possibly be the same?” - -“It may be; but one doesn’t know how far the name may be a common one in -these parts. I think Lorimer, who talked with him so much, said that he -hailed from these parts.” - -“What is it, father?” asked Squib earnestly. “What are you talking of?” - -“Why, we had a guide called Ernsthausen—an uncommonly good fellow he -was, too; and, though I said nothing about it to your mother in my -letters, we were once in a nasty predicament, and things might have gone -badly with us but for Ernsthausen, who showed great presence of mind and -courage. He would not take anything beyond his ordinary fee and small -gratuity, saying he had only done his duty. But we thought very well of -the man, and were talking about trying to find some way of helping him. -Mr. Lorimer used to have long conversations with him that we did not -understand. He may have found out something about him. Run and call him, -Squib; let us take him into counsel.” - -Squib, quite excited by the prospect of a council over his friends, at -once jumped to his feet. - -“I expect it’s the same!” he cried eagerly. “Seppi’s father _is_ a -guide, I know; and a very good one. That’s partly what makes them afraid -when he goes away for the summer, and when storms come on. Gentlemen -going long and dangerous ascents always try to get him, because he can -be trusted. He gets well paid, of course; but they are always afraid -lest some harm should happen to him.” - -“Sounds rather like the same man, doesn’t it?” said Uncle Ronald. “Well, -we’ll see what Lorimer has to say about it.” - -Mr. Lorimer was soon there, and could tell them many things he had -gleaned from the guide Ernsthausen. It very soon seemed almost certain -that he was none other than Seppi’s father, for he had spoken of having -his home in a valley not far from the chalet whither his gentlemen -travellers were bound at the conclusion of their mountaineering trip, -and he had certainly spoken more than once of a little lame son at home. - -That quite settled the matter in Squib’s mind, and he was quite excited -to know what was to follow. - -“I know what Ernsthausen has really set his heart upon,” said Mr. -Lorimer. “It has been a project of his for years, and he is saving money -for it; but he is still some way from having sufficient to start it.” - -“What is that?” asked Colonel Rutland with interest. - -“Well, I don’t know whether you know how things are done in this -country, but I will tell you something of it in brief. I may not be very -accurate in detail, but the substance is true. If a man wants to -undertake any big bit of work—build a hotel or pleasure resort, or even -get himself a large farm, he scrapes together a certain sum, and then -applies to the government for a loan sufficient to enable him to carry -it out. He pays a modest rate of interest for this when the thing is -started, and gradually pays off the debt as well if he is thrifty and -careful; but the government has what we should call a mortgage, I -suppose, on the place all the while; and if the man is a ne’er-do-well, -or idle, or extravagant, and does not keep his pledges, government -simply steps in and ousts him, and takes the place over bodily. I -suppose he gets his own capital back; but I don’t know the details, as I -say. I only know that that is the sort of thing that goes on, and -explains the ease with which small men build and set going these monster -hotels, which in England would ruin the first two or three proprietors -very likely.” - -“Sounds a simple and Arcadian method,” remarked Uncle Ronald; “but what -has all this got to do with Ernsthausen?” - -“Why, just this. He is very anxious to have a small hotel of his own for -mountaineers; just in that spot we have so often spoken of as needing -one so badly—where all those valleys converge, and so many ascents can -be made. It has been an idea of his for a long while, and he has been -saving up all he can. His wife would manage the kitchen department, and -his son would help in many ways, and he would still do a certain amount -of his old work for the gentlemen he knew, but gradually grow -independent of it as his strength diminished. He has been thinking of -the scheme for years, always afraid lest somebody should be beforehand -with him; but he does not think he has yet quite sufficient to get the -advance from government. He told me that in two or three years he hoped -to make a start. But often some calamity in the winter to his home, or -some failure in the crops, has obliged him to draw upon his savings. I -thought, then, that it would be a happy notion to make over to him the -balance he needs; but, with a man of free, independent character, it is -not easy to tender help. He is proud, this Ernsthausen, with all his -poverty.” - -“And a good thing, too,” breathed Uncle Ronald softly. “That is a -complaint I wish more poor people suffered from in these days!” - -But Squib, who had been listening breathlessly all this time, now burst -into excited speech. - -“Oh, father, do let me give my pounds to Seppi! and let me tell him all -about it I don’t think he knows; but I believe he would be glad, because -they are always so sad when their father goes away. It would be -beautiful if they all lived together always, and had a place of their -own, and took in travellers, and were not so poor. I don’t think they -mind being poor. I think they are wonderfully good; but it would be nice -for them not to have to be afraid about their father any more, and to be -with him all the year.” - -“Well, we will think about it,” answered Colonel Rutland. “I shall make -inquiries, and see what I think can be done. We must first make sure -that the family is the same: and then we will see how we can go to work. -I should like to help them very well, I confess; but we must not be in a -hurry.” - -Squib always was in a hurry; and he found all this very exciting. He -wanted to talk it over with Seppi at once, but he resolved not to do so -till things were more settled. - -But he was off early next morning to the valley, and to his surprise and -pleasure found Seppi on his old knoll by the fir-trees, with his -sketch-book and chalks beside him. He was looking eagerly out for Squib, -to hail him as he passed, fearing lest he should plunge straight down to -the bridge. - -Moor, too, was on the lookout on his own account, and came bounding up -to him, pushing his black nose into his hand, and soliciting notice. -Moor had been very affectionate to Squib ever since the death of Czar. -It seemed as if he recognized the child’s loss, and tried to show -sympathy in his own way. Squib repaid this affection warmly, and thought -Moor, next to Czar, the nicest dog in the world. He followed him -willingly enough to Seppi’s knoll. - -“You are up here again, Seppi! That is nice!” - -“Yes; I wanted to come again,” said Seppi with a wistful look round him. -“I do so love the mountains; and I cannot see them properly from the -other side.” - -Squib sat silent a little while thinking, and then asked,— - -“Do you think these mountains are so much better than any other -mountains? Would you be very sorry to go away and leave them?” - -There was a strange look in Seppi’s eyes as he looked straight out -before him. - -“I—I—don’t quite know,” he said softly, almost more to himself than to -his companion. “Sometimes I think—perhaps—it would be better there.” - -Squib shot a little glance at him from under his brows. Seppi’s face -wore the sort of look one sees on the face of a person who is looking on -things from which he is soon rather likely to have to part. And the -younger boy recognized this look at a glance. - -“He does know something about it,” he said to himself. “Perhaps his -father doesn’t want it talked about, and so he keeps it to himself. But -he has heard something, I am sure. I hope he does not mind very much.” - -There was silence a while between the children, and then Squib asked in -a tentative fashion,— - -“You are not unhappy, Seppi?” - -The dark eyes were turned full upon him, and Seppi smiled. - -“No,” he answered softly, “I don’t think I am unhappy, little Herr; I -have thought about it so often. I think it will be better really, -perhaps; only—only—well, I suppose it is always rather hard to go away -when one loves everything so much.” - -“Yes,” answered Squib with sympathy, “I think that is the hard part of -it—and you love your valley so much. But you know it will be just as -beautiful there—perhaps it may even be more beautiful. We don’t know -because we have never seen it.” - -Seppi gently shook his head, and smiled. - -“That’s always what I try to think—that it will be so much more -beautiful than this that I shan’t want ever to come back. I don’t -suppose people ever do really. Only sometimes one can hardly help -thinking one would.” - -“No, of course not,” answered Squib eagerly, “and you especially, -because you are so fond of your valley and mountains; but I think the -other will be better. I really do.” - -“I think so too—really,” answered Seppi softly. “I’m glad you know about -it, little Herr. I didn’t know whether I could talk to you about it.” - -“Oh yes, you can—if you like,” answered Squib eagerly; “I didn’t know -you knew anything about it yourself. I shouldn’t have said anything if -you hadn’t. But I do like to know what you think about it. Will you mind -going very much?—and will Ann-Katherin mind?” - -Seppi’s face looked very grave and rather sad. - -“Ann-Katherin does not know,” he answered very softly. “I couldn’t tell -her; she would cry so. I don’t speak about it to any one: but I am sure -mother knows. She cries often, but she doesn’t talk about it.” - -Squib felt a little puzzled. - -“But isn’t she rather glad too? Doesn’t she like to think of having your -father always there, and his not going so much up the dangerous -mountains?” - -It was Seppi’s turn to look puzzled now. - -“I don’t quite understand you, little Herr.” - -Squib turned a bright look upon him. - -“Why, about the hotel, you know, which your father wants to have down in -that other valley where there isn’t one. Weren’t you talking of that all -the time? I thought he had told you all about it, only it was a secret.” - -Seppi’s bewildered face astonished Squib not a little. - -“I don’t know what you mean, little Herr.” - -“Didn’t he ever tell you about it, then?—or your mother?” - -Seppi shook his head. - -“I’ve never heard anything about it.” - -“Then what did you mean about going away?” - -The children looked into each other’s eyes, and Squib felt a sudden stab -of pain somewhere which he did not understand. - -“Tell me what _you_ meant,” said Seppi after a pause. “Why did _you_ -think I was going away? And what do you mean about a hotel?” - -Squib looked eager, yet doubtful. - -“I’m not quite sure if I ought to tell. If I do, it must be a great -secret, Seppi.” - -“Oh, I won’t tell; but I should like to know. It would be something to -think about when I am thinking of them all. Will you please tell me, -little Herr?” - -“Do you know what a hotel is, Seppi?” - -“Yes, father talks about them sometimes. People stop there and have -their food and beds. Father once said that he should like to keep one -himself. It paid very well when it was well managed, and he should like -the life. But mother said it was no use thinking of it, because they -should never have the money.” - -“Oh, then you _do_ know!” cried Squib eagerly. “I’m so glad; because I -_think_ perhaps your father will have the money quite soon; and then -he’ll begin to build, and perhaps by next spring you will all go and -live there. It would not be your own valley, of course, but Uncle Ronald -says it’s one of the most beautiful valleys in all Switzerland.” - -Seppi’s eyes were shining now with excitement. - -“Oh, how wonderful! Would they really! Oh, how do you know about it? -Mother doesn’t know, I’m sure; I should know if she did. How can father -get the money?—and how do you know, little Herr?” - -Squib nodded his head sagely. He wasn’t going to be betrayed into any -premature disclosures, nor did he quite know how people were going to -manage matters; but he knew that what his father took in hand always was -carried through somehow, and so he had no doubts at all. - -“My father told me,” he answered proudly. “My father is a very good man, -and he knows a great deal. Your father was his guide, and he saved his -life; and mother and they all think that you saved me from being hurt in -the storm. That’s what makes them all so interested in it. When my -father means a thing to be done, it always is done,” concluded Squib -rather grandly, though without any assumption. “He has been a soldier, -you know, and has always had people obeying him. Things always come -right when he takes them in hand. Everybody says that.” - -The lame boy’s eyes were shining brightly. - -“Oh, I am so glad! I am so glad!” he whispered. “I didn’t know how to -think of leaving mother and Ann-Katherin before; but if they go away -somewhere else, and if they have a different home and a different -valley, they will not miss me the same way. How good God is to us!” -added the boy with sudden vehemence. “Just as Herr Adler says. He does -everything we ask Him, and ever so much that we should never have -thought of asking. He is good and kind!” - -Squib was looking rather disturbed. - -“I don’t quite understand you, Seppi. Why do you talk about going away, -except to the new home?” - -Seppi turned his eyes over towards the mountains, and Squib saw how -pinched and thin his face had grown. He began to apprehend the meaning -of the words, though he did not fully comprehend them. - -“I think I shan’t be here in the spring to go with them,” said the lame -boy quietly. “The doctor said last time that another cold would make an -end of me. There’s been something wrong here,” touching his chest, “ever -since I was all those hours in the ice-cave. Every winter they think it -will be then; but I’m sure it’s coming now.” - -Squib looked very much awed, but not afraid. The thought of death is not -in itself terrible to children. Their hold upon life is not very strong, -and their simple faith carries them over all perplexities and -misgivings. - -“Do you mean you will not get better?” he asked softly. - -“I don’t think I can. I feel so very weak, and at night I can’t breathe, -and I have to sit up and pant. I am best out on the mountains; but soon -I can’t be there any longer. If it were not for mother and Ann-Katherin -I think I should be glad. It isn’t good being weak and lame, and not -able to do anything like other boys and men. In God’s garden it will not -matter. I shall be like the others there.” - -“God’s garden!” repeated Squib quickly. - -“Yes; I once had a dream about being in God’s garden. I can’t explain -how it was; but there was a beautiful garden with mountains all round -it, and flowers growing everywhere. And I was one of them; and I knew -that the others had been live people once, and had died and been taken -there to rest and sleep until the resurrection. And we were all so -happy. And presently a whisper ran through that the Lord was coming, and -that we were to be ready for Him; and that made me so glad and happy -that I awoke before He had come. But I always remember my dream; and -once I told it to Herr Adler, and he told me that he knew many good men -who had dreamed something very much the same. So when I think of being -dead, I never feel as if I should be in a narrow grave in the cold and -the dark, but be a flower in God’s garden, just waiting for the Lord to -come.” - -Squib’s eyes were bright with interest and sympathy. - -“That was a nice dream,” he said. “I shall think about that often. I am -glad you told it me.” - -“I’m glad I’ve talked to you,” said Seppi. “I was feeling rather unhappy -before you came, and now I am quite happy again. I think mother and -Ann-Katherin would have missed me so if they had stayed always here; but -if they go to another place, it will be quite different. They will have -a lot of nice things to think of, and that will keep them happy.” - -“Will Ann-Katherin mind leaving the valley?” - -“I don’t think so if I’m not there. I think she will be glad to go. -Ann-Katherin loves the mountains and the goats and everything here, but -she likes change too. If there are mountains and pretty things where she -is going, I think she would like it better. She would like to see a lot -of people; and Peter will be very happy.” - -Seppi had so much to talk of and think about that his face quite beamed, -and lost its pinched, wistful expression. - -“Perhaps he will get better,” thought Squib to himself, as at last he -rose and made his way home. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - FAREWELLS. - - -That was the last time that Seppi and Squib sat together upon the knoll -beside the fir trees, looking out across the valley at the great range -of snow-peaks opposite. - -When next Squib found his way there, no Seppi was to be seen. Three days -had passed since they had held their talk together about leaving the -green valley they both loved, and those three days had been full of -interest to the little boy. - -For Mr. Lorimer and his father had been making inquiries about the -Ernsthausen family, and had established the identity of Seppi’s father -with the guide who had served them so faithfully, and had saved Colonel -Rutland’s life at the risk of his own. Squib’s story of little Seppi and -his patience and goodness touched the heart of his mother very much. -Lady Mary had heard much of Seppi during the past weeks; and ever since -the storm, when she had been so alarmed for a couple of hours about her -son, she had felt great gratitude to the little goat-herd who had so -promptly taken him into shelter, and to the whole household in the -humble home who had cared for him, and had sent to relieve her anxiety. -She entered with much sympathy into Squib’s eager desire to help the -family to set up for themselves in the way the father had long desired; -and she told Squib that since his father had taken up the matter she was -very sure it would all come right in the end. - -“May I tell Seppi so?” asked Squib eagerly, and his mother said she -thought he might, if Seppi could be trusted to keep the secret for a -little while till things were more settled. - -“Thank you,” said Squib, “I should like Seppi to have the pleasure of -knowing about it and thinking about it beforehand. Mother dear, don’t -you think a clever doctor might make Seppi well again? Uncle Ronald was -soon made quite well when he came home ill.” - -Lady Mary shook her head sorrowfully. - -“I am afraid, my darling, from what I hear that poor little Seppi’s days -are numbered. But you know that his crippled life here could not be such -a very happy one. He would feel his lameness more and more as he grew -older, and the Loving Shepherd knows what is best and happiest for His -lambs.” - -The tears sprang to Squib’s eyes as he heard those words, and he pressed -up to his mother’s side. - -“Did you feel like that, mother,” he whispered, “about _my_ little -brother when he died?” - -For that little brother whom he could not remember had always seemed to -Squib to belong especially to himself, and his mother’s arms pressed him -very close as she answered,— - -“That is how I try to think of it now, darling. It was very hard to give -him up at the time, but I am quite willing to believe that the Lord -knows best, and by-and-by we shall understand all those things which -seem so hard to bear now.” - -“Yes,” answered Squib quickly and earnestly, “when the Lord comes to -make all things new, and His Kingdom begins to come. Oh, how I wish it -would come quickly!” - -The mother looked earnestly into her child’s face and saw that the boy’s -eyes were fixed intently upon the blue distance before them. Some new -thought was struggling in his mind. - -“Mother,” he said, “do you know that there is a little bit of this earth -in glory now? I don’t quite know how to say it, but that’s just what it -is. One little bit has been glorified and has its resurrection life -already. Did you know?” - -Lady Mary slightly shook her head. - -“I do not quite know what you mean, dear child. I suppose it is -something Herr Adler told you?” - -[Illustration: - - _“Seppi drew Squib’s hand down upon the head of Moor.”_ - - Page 254. -] - -“Yes,” answered Squib; “it’s so beautiful and so interesting. Mother, -it’s the Lord Himself who has been glorified. You know He rose out of -the grave with the same body as He had on earth, which was made of the -earth—only in resurrection it was different. But it _was_ the same body, -for there were the marks of the nails and the spear; and that body has -been taken up to heaven and glorified, so that just a little bit of our -earth is glorified in Heaven now. Mother, Herr Adler says that when the -Lord has begun a promised work, it is a sure and certain pledge that He -will finish it when the right time has come. And so we know that -by-and-by we shall have resurrection bodies given us, and shall be -glorified too. He says that that is what David meant when he said: ‘When -I awake after Thy likeness, I shall be satisfied with it.’ You see _he_ -knew about it somehow, even though Jesus hadn’t come then.” - -Lady Mary kissed her child lovingly. - -“I am glad you had so many beautiful talks with Herr Adler,” she said. -“Always try to remember what he taught you, dear.” - -“I will,” answered Squib earnestly; “I think he is the _goodest_ man I -have ever seen.” - -And having kissed his mother, Squib went off to find Seppi, but the -knoll was not occupied to-day. - -“He will be nearer home,” said Squib, preparing to descend, and sure -enough he came upon his companion lower down the valley, but on the far -side of the bridge. - -The face raised to greet him was bright, although it looked very sharp -and worn; and there was creeping over it, under the brown, a curious -grey look. - -“Little Herr, I thought you would come to me. I tried to get to our -knoll, but I couldn’t.” - -“Why couldn’t you?” asked Squib with solicitude. - -“I felt so queer, and all my breath went away. I had to sit down; but I -thought if you came you would come down. I don’t seem to have any room -to breathe if I go uphill.” - -“Poor Seppi!” said Squib pitifully; “does it hurt much?” - -“Oh no! I don’t have any pain. And I’m used to it at night. Generally I -am pretty comfortable by day. Little Herr, we had a visit yesterday from -a friend of father’s.” - -“Did you?” - -“Yes, and he says father is rather disturbed, because he has heard that -somebody has been talking about buying the piece of ground he wants so -much for the hotel he has been thinking of so long. He has heard that a -gentleman has been inquiring about it.” - -Squib’s face beamed all over. - -“That’s my father,” he said in an important whisper. “My father has -_such_ good ideas. He set somebody to ask about the land before he came -back here. I suppose that is what your father has heard of. But he need -not really mind; for if my father buys the bit of land, he will give it -to your father, I know.” - -“O little Herr! It seems too good to be true!” - -“Oh no; only one of those nice things that grown-up people can do. -That’s what I should like to be grown-up for—I should have so many nice -plans.” - -The boys sat thinking each his own thoughts, and then Squib said,— - -“I suppose your mother told you about it, then, because you didn’t know -much the other day.” - -“Yes, she told me in the night, when I couldn’t go to sleep. We had a -nice long talk about lots of things. She talked about father’s plan; but -I didn’t tell her what you had told me. I thought it was a secret.” - -“I think it is just now, till something has been settled. O Seppi! I -wish you and I could go together to see the valley, and make plans about -your new home there.” - -Seppi looked all round him, up and down his own valley, and away towards -the Silent Watchers guarding it on either hand, and said,— - -“I think I like this one best. I don’t think I want to go to the other, -though I like to think of them there. Little Herr, will you ever go to -see it some day, when you are a man?” - -“Oh yes!” cried Squib eagerly. “When I’m a man I shall do lots and lots -of things. I mean to be a mountaineer for one thing, like Mr. Lorimer, -and climb all the mountains that can be climbed, and I shall have your -father for my guide, and I shall stay at his hotel, and we shall be -great friends. You know he was very brave, and saved my father’s life. I -shall never forget that. It’s not the sort of thing one ever does -forget.” - -Seppi looked very pleased and happy. - -“I think father is a very brave man,” he said, “though he never talks -about the brave things he does.” - -“I don’t think really brave men do,” answered Squib, with decision. “The -boys at school say that it’s always the cowards and the bullies who do -the bragging and the boasting; the really brave boys don’t have to be -always telling of themselves.” - -Seppi quite agreed in this, and told a few stories he had heard from -others of his father’s prowess, and they drew many happy fancy pictures -of the days to come when Squib should become a great mountain climber, -and Ernsthausen should go with him right up into the land of cloud and -snow, across the blue mysterious glaciers, and ever upwards and onwards -to the soaring peaks beyond. Squib’s face flushed with delighted -anticipation as he lifted it towards the eternal snows and thought of -all the triumphs that lay before him; but presently his expression -changed, and putting out his hand he took Seppi’s gently in it, and -said,— - -“I wish you could go too!” - -Seppi smiled without any sadness. - -“But, little Herr, I never could climb, you know,” and he looked at his -poor, little, shrunken limb. - -“I know,” answered Squib quickly, “but I mean I wish that _that_ hadn’t -happened to you.” - -The little goat-herd looked thoughtfully out before him. - -“I’m not sure that I do,” he said. - -“O Seppi! what do you mean?” - -“I was thinking,” answered Seppi dreamily, “that if I had been strong -and active like Peter, perhaps I should not have had the goats to mind. -I think Ann-Katherin would have taken them, and I should have worked at -home with mother and Peter; and then, you see, I should not have had all -those talks with Herr Adler, and I should not have had my drawing; and I -should not have had _you_, little Herr!” - -“O Seppi! but to have been strong and well would have made up for that,” -said Squib, whose active spirit could not imagine a more terrible loss -than that of the power of locomotion. - -“I don’t know,” answered Seppi. “I think I am happier than Peter, who is -strong and big. I don’t think I want to be anybody else. It’s just as -Herr Adler said it would be.” - -“What did he say?” asked Squib, with interest. - -“It was the first time he came; at least, the first time I can remember -about. I was out with the goats. I had not been lame long, and I was -often unhappy. I missed the things I had been used to do, and I wanted -to do them again. I was crying about it one day, and he saw me, and came -and sat down by me and talked. He said such beautiful things.” - -“Tell me what they were.” - -“Yes; but I can’t make them sound as he does, you know. He first told me -about how God had taken care of me down in the ice, and had helped -father to get me up safe again; and he said I must not think any more -about its being the ice-maidens, because that was nothing but the fancy -of people who lived amongst mountains, and that God would never let His -children be subject to such beings, even if they had any existence; but -when I cried again about being lame, he was kinder still, and told me -that it was perhaps because the Lord loved me that He had laid His hand -upon me, because it says somewhere that whom He loveth He chasteneth—it -is in the Bible.” - -Squib nodded his head. - -“Yes, I know. I came upon it reading once with mother. I said it seemed -like you.” - -Seppi’s face flushed with pleasure and gratitude. - -“Did you? How kind to think of me, little Herr! Well, I won’t tell you -the things of that sort which he said. I expect you know them all -yourself; but he told me other things that I had never thought about -before. He said that if God took away from us one of our powers, He was -always ready to make it up to us by giving us more of another; and that, -if we could learn to be submissive, and to take everything He sent us as -His gift, we should soon find that we were not the worse, but the better -for it!” - -“O Seppi—how?” - -“Well, I didn’t understand then, but I do now. He told me I must use my -eyes if I could not use my legs, and that I should see as many wonderful -things going on around me as if I could scour the woods after them; and -indeed it’s true. Just sitting still anywhere, and listening and -watching is _so_ interesting; and then watching the shapes and the -colours of things put it into my head to carve and draw; and that _has_ -made me so happy. And then the farmer down in the big _thal_ gave me -Moor for my very own, which he never would have done if I hadn’t been -lame; and so you see how many, many things I have got by it. And I often -think I’ve been happier than Peter, though he is so strong and can go -anywhere.” - -“Do you think you are?” asked Squib. - -“I often think so. Peter doesn’t care a bit to watch the mountains, and -he doesn’t know how beautiful they can be. He never listens to what the -water says, and he doesn’t know a bit how happy it makes one to see -beautiful things and think about how they come to be there. Herr Adler -says that if we only have eyes to see and ears to hear, everything in -the beautiful world tells us about God and His Kingdom, and I’m sure it -does. It has made up for everything to me. I don’t think I want anything -different now.” - -Squib heaved a little sigh as he said,— - -“Well, if you don’t want it different, I’ll try not to want it either. -But I can’t help thinking how nice it would be if you could have been my -guide some day when we were both men, and I came to stay in your -father’s hotel.” - -The talk about that hotel was a great amusement and pleasure to the boys -in the days to come. Seppi was failing rapidly. He was still able to be -out near home with the goats, and Squib would join him almost daily, -often with some interesting piece of information about the negotiation -of the land purchase, which was going on still. Colonel Rutland was -buying the site, Squib presently informed Seppi, and he would then make -it over to Ernsthausen as his own. Then, after the sale of the present -plot of ground and chalet, the man would have enough with his savings to -ask the needful loan from government, and commence the building. It -would not take long to run up the modest building he required, and by -the following spring he would be able to open it for the use of -mountaineers, for whose resort it was mainly to be put up. The children -were never tired of talking about it, and by this time the whole family -knew what was on foot, and were in a state of excitement and pleasure. -Peter was going to realize his dream, and live a wider and more exciting -life, not quite so much shut in as now by the limits of the narrow -valley. The mother would not be separated from her husband during the -summer, and would have congenial occupation at his side; and as for -Ann-Katherin, she caught the prevailing excitement without exactly -knowing what it was all about, and thought that everything would be -delightful, though she could not at all imagine living anywhere but in -her own beautiful valley. - -Moor was the only member of the household that seemed unhappy at this -juncture. Was it that the sensible fellow had a premonition of coming -change? or did some instinct tell him that all was not well with his -little master? The boys could not tell. All they knew was that the dog -was restless and unhappy; that he followed their movements with his eyes -in a wistful and imploring manner; that he whined a good deal at night, -and was only quieted by being put to sleep upon the foot of Seppi’s bed; -and that on the days when Squib failed to appear, he had been known to -set off to meet him and hasten him, and not finding him, had come home -very dejected, and had been restless and uneasy all day. - -“He is so very fond of you,” Seppi often said when telling Squib of -this. “I think he likes you next best to me of anybody. He only seems -really happy when we are together. Poor Moor! he is such a faithful -friend. I do love him so! I think he understands everything I say!” - -Squib had been detained at home one whole day, first by a rainy morning, -and then by a walk with his father, which had kept him away from the -valley where Seppi was half-expecting him. He did not always go, but -since his time had begun to get short (for they were to leave the chalet -soon), he tried hard to see his friend daily, for he knew that his -visits were eagerly looked for, and he sometimes had some interesting -bits of news to communicate. - -He had planned to start off for the valley next day as soon as ever his -early breakfast had been dispatched; but before he was up in the -morning—when, in fact, the day was only beginning to brighten in the -east—he was awakened by a strange sound of snorting and scuffling just -outside the little door-window which opened on his balcony, and he sat -up listening with a beating heart and a strange feeling creeping over -him, for it was just that sort of noise that Czar used to make when he -came up sometimes to suggest that they should have an early walk -together. But poor Czar lay in his grave on the hillside. What could -this noise mean? - -Squib sprang out of bed and pattered across the bare floor in his little -night-shirt. He unfastened the bolts and opened the window, when in ran -Moor, his coat wet with dew, his eyes full of that unspeakable -wistfulness seldom seen in any eyes save those of a dog, and his whole -manner full of such an eager intensity of purpose that Squib knew in a -moment that something unwonted had happened or was happening. - -“What is it, Moor? What is it, good dog?” he asked. “And oh, Moor, how -did you find your way here?” for Squib suddenly remembered that Moor had -never been to the chalet before, and had never accompanied him further -than to the ridge just above the knoll with the fir-trees, where he had -first seen Seppi and his goats. - -Moor could not answer, but he whined round the child, putting up his -paws and seeming to try as hard as he could to tell him something. - -Squib understood dog-ways and dog-talk almost as well as dogs understood -him, and he quickly comprehended that Moor wanted him to go with him -somewhere. - -“I’ll come! I’ll come!” he answered, and began hurrying on his clothes. -Moor was satisfied the moment he saw this, and ran to a water-jug to -slake his own thirst, for he had plainly run fast and hard. Squib was -not many minutes in getting into his clothes, and as soon as he was -dressed he paused for nothing save to get a few biscuits out of a -cupboard, some for himself and some for Moor, as they ran down the -staircase and through the dewy grass together. - -“Is it Seppi?” asked Squib anxiously; and at the sound of the familiar -name the dog looked backwards over his shoulder and uttered a little, -low whine. - -“Did he send you for me?” said Squib again, still running onwards along -the familiar track, with Moor always a few yards in advance. But Moor -only wagged his tail that time and said nothing, and the pair sped on in -silence. - -“Something is the matter,” said Squib to himself, “and Moor will show me -what it is. Can Seppi have fallen, or be in danger? But then Moor would -have run home for help. Besides, Seppi could not be out so early. He is -not well enough.” - -Down the side of the valley plunged Squib in the wake of the faithful -Moor, looking keenly to right and left as he did so, but seeing nothing -to attract his attention or account for the eagerness of the dog. - -At last they reached the bridge, and were quite near the chalet. Squib -suddenly began to wonder what they would think there of his appearing at -such an hour, and, for a moment, he paused, as though in doubt; but Moor -uttered a quick, sharp bark, either of joy or command, and out from the -chalet darted a little bare-headed figure, and Squib heard -Ann-Katherin’s voice raised in sudden excitement and relief. - -“Mother, he has come! He is here! Mother—Seppi—the little Herr has -come!” - -The next moment Frau Ernsthausen herself had come running out, and she -met Squib a few paces from her door. Her face was pale and stained with -weeping. Her voice shook as she held out her hands. - -“Ah, the good God must surely have sent His angel to tell you! Oh, how -my poor little Seppi has been calling for you!” - -“Moor came for me,” answered Squib, rather bewildered and awed. “What -does Seppi want?” - -“Ah, don’t ask! don’t ask! My child is dying!” cried the poor mother, -her tears gushing forth again. “Peter is away for the doctor. I could -not let Ann-Katherin go, nor did she know the way. But all the night -through he has been asking for you. Oh, thank God that you have come in -time!” - -Very full of awe, but without any sense of fear, Squib entered the low -door, and found himself in the familiar room. A shaft of sunlight -entered with him, and Seppi, who was lying in his bed propped up high -with pillows, stretched out his arms to him with such a smile of -welcome. - -“The angel _has_ brought him, mother!” he cried, in a quick succession -of panting breaths. “I see the shining of his wings. How good God is!” - -Squib went straight up and took Seppi’s two hands. - -“I have come,” he said simply. “Moor came for me; he said you wanted me, -Seppi!” - -The eyes, so wonderfully bright and full of the intense light which is -not of this world, suddenly drew off, as it were, from looking out into -space and fastened themselves on Squib’s face. Seppi smiled a different -kind of smile now, but it was a very happy one. - -“I am so glad you have come,” he said; “I did so want to see you again. -I have something to give you, little Herr. Will you let me?” - -“O Seppi, yes. Is it anything I can do for you?” - -“Yes; I want you to have Moor,” said Seppi, still panting out his words -in the same quick, breathless way. “I want you to have him for your very -own. He loves you next best. He would be happy with you. Will you have -him?” - -“O Seppi, don’t give him away yet; you may want him again,” sobbed -Squib, overcome for a moment by the sense of near parting which this -request brought home to him. - -A quick, strange smile flashed over Seppi’s face, over which a grey -shadow was falling. - -“No,” he whispered, “I shan’t want him any more; but I love him. He -brought you. He will miss me most. Please have him and keep him for me,” -and possessing himself of Squib’s hand, Seppi drew it down upon the head -of Moor, who had stretched himself upon the bed beside his little -master, and who now licked the joined hands of both children, with his -eyes full of tears. - -“I’ll keep him,” answered Squib, steadying his voice. “He shall come -home and live with me. I will make him happy.” - -Seppi smiled. It seemed the last little cloud upon his mind. Now that he -was satisfied he lay back on his pillows and put out one hand to his -mother, the other lying still in Squib’s close clasp upon the head of -the dog. - -“Tell me about 'He shall give His angels charge,’” he whispered the next -moment. Seppi looked at the mother, and the woman looked back at him, -and then Squib, suddenly thinking of Herr Adler and some of the things -he had said, answered with one of his own bursts of subdued vehemence,— - -“Seppi, I daresay the angels are here. I daresay it was they who helped -Moor to find me and bring me; but that doesn’t matter. The Lord Jesus is -here Himself, and I think you will see Him soon. Never mind anything -else. He is coming.” - -Seppi’s eyes filled suddenly with strange light, and then the lids -closed, and the quick panting breathing grew very slow—and then stopped. - -“Jesus has come!” said Squib in his heart, and he turned by a sudden -impulse and put his arms round the neck of the weeping woman on her -knees beside him. - -“Seppi is not lame any more,” said Squib softly. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - GOING HOME. - - -It was the last day at the chalet. On the morrow Colonel Rutland and his -party were to start for England and home. - -Squib stood holding his father’s hand beside a little newly-made grave -in the quaint little burying-ground of the little church on the -hillside, just where it began to slope gently down towards the wider end -of the valley where the small township lay. - -Squib held in his hands a wooden cross about three feet high. He had -spent the last days of his stay in Switzerland in carving that cross, -and in striving to put into it some of the many imaginings which crowded -his busy brain. For a child’s handiwork it was very creditable. There -was a lily carved upon the upright bar, standing out in bold relief, and -the greatest pains had been taken with the shape and veining of every -leaf and petal. At the very top of the cross the word “SEPPI” was cut in -small capitals, and that was all. The lower end of the upright bar was -pointed, and as Squib stood at the little grave looking very seriously -upon it, he gave a questioning look up into his father’s face, and on -receiving a nod of assent he moved forward and drove his cross into the -ground just at the head of the little grave. The earth, having recently -been loosened, gave no great resistance. With the aid of his father the -boy fixed his little memento safely in its place, and, having done this, -he hung upon it a wreath of Alpine flowers which he carried on his arm, -and stood looking at the result with a smile on his lips and a tear in -his eye. - -Colonel Rutland, standing bare-headed at the grave, bent his keen gaze -on the face of the child beside him. The death of little Seppi was -Squib’s first real acquaintance with death (for he had been too little -to understand or remember the loss of his baby brother), and it had -produced a considerable effect upon the child, as his parents had -observed. His presence at the deathbed could not have failed to leave an -impression on a mind so thoughtful and sensitive as Squib’s; and it had -been plain to those about him that the boy had thought of little else -ever since his return from the peasant’s chalet with news of Seppi’s -sudden death, and the way in which he had been summoned. - -“I think they will know whose doing that is,” said the Colonel, and the -boy looked up with a smile. Although grave, and sometimes tearful, Squib -had not been sorrowful during these intervening days, and there was a -look of gladness in his face now as he surveyed his handiwork. - -After rather a long silence he broke out in his earnest way,— - -“I think they will. I’m sure Ann-Katherin will, because Seppi always -told her everything—what we talked about and what we thought about. She -will know why I made it a cross, and why I put the lily on.” - -“Why did you, my boy?” asked the father gently. - -“Well, you see, father, it was like this. We used to talk about -things—Seppi and I—and he used to tell me things I didn’t know. You know -the people about here are some of them Roman Catholics, and they do -things that seem queer to us. They go down on their knees when they pass -a cross or a crucifix by the roadside, and Seppi said that Protestants -called that wicked, so that they didn’t have any crosses or anything -like that in their churches. But I told him we did in England, and he -thought it was nice, if it wasn’t wrong; and so we asked Herr Adler -about it, and he told us.” - -“Told you what?” - -“Oh, just made us understand what was right and beautiful and true, -without getting wrong things mixed up with it. Herr Adler is so nice -like that. He loves the Roman Catholics, and calls them brothers, but he -knows better than anybody I ever met just where they are wrong, because -they go beyond the Bible, and teach things that are not there; and he -loves the Protestants, because they made a stand for the truth and would -not have the Bible kept from them, nor have a Pope for the head of the -church instead of our Lord; but he tells us just where they have cut -away too much and left their churches bare and their services too. And -so he told us that we were right to love the symbol of the cross (as -Seppi did, only he was afraid it was wrong), because St. Paul said that -he would glory in it, and our Lord said we were to take up our cross and -follow Him. We used to talk about Seppi’s lameness. I think that was his -cross; and I knew he would have liked to have one at his grave—though I -don’t think anybody else would put one there. And you see the lily means -that he isn’t lame any more—that he has laid down his cross, and that he -is in God’s garden now—a lily, perhaps, or some beautiful flower, just -blooming there with the others, and waiting for the Lord to come. Like -his dream.” - -And then Squib slipped his hand again into his father’s, and the pair -walked back to the chalet again. - -They had plenty of interesting things to talk of. Not only were they -going home soon, but everything had been arranged about the Ernsthausens -and the piece of ground which Colonel Rutland had bought and made over -to them. Everything was practically settled by that time; and as they -passed through the place on their homeward way, Squib was to have the -great delight of seeing the site of the proposed hotel, and of being -introduced to Seppi’s father. - -Moor was one of the little party at the grave that day. He had stood -with wistful eyes and drooping tail whilst father and son remained -there. It seemed almost as if he knew who it was that lay sleeping -below; but he had quite settled down by this time in his new home and -with his new master, and Squib had won his fathers consent to taking the -faithful dog back to England with him. - -At first there had been some doubt about this. Both parents had thought -the dog would be far happier in his own home, and could not understand -Squib’s assurances to the contrary; but when it was demonstrated time -after time that, if taken back to the peasant’s chalet, the dog would -return almost immediately to his new master with every demonstration of -joy and affection, Colonel Rutland was fain to admit that some -inexplicable bond had been formed between the pair, and he no longer -resisted Squib’s earnest appeal to be permitted to take the dog home -with them. He was not a beautiful animal, but his fidelity and sagacity -were beyond dispute. Squib and he were devoted friends, and since poor -Czar was no more, one dog was manageable on the homeward journey. - -Squib’s farewells were all made by this time. The visit to Seppi’s grave -was the very last. His precious collections of plants and flowers were -all packed up by the careful Lisa. His many small gifts and his numerous -carvings were stowed away in the great boxes, all carefully marked for -identification. On his last visit to the home of the Ernsthausens he had -been given numbers of Seppi’s drawings, and especially, what he greatly -valued, the sketch-book, full of those chalk sketches and studies whose -progress he had watched with such keen interest. There were several -beautiful portraits of Czar in this book, which made it the more -valuable, and every picture recalled some incident to the boy’s mind, or -portrayed some familiar effect of sunshine and snow such as the pair had -loved to watch. With that sketch-book in his hands, he would be able to -make the brothers and sisters at home understand everything about his -life in the valley. Here were the Silent Watchers with their great snow -crowns, there the tumbling cascades and watercourses with their many -bridges. On one page was a picture of Seppi’s home, with Peter digging -in the garden, and Ann-Katherin sitting in the doorway with her red -handkerchief on her head; on another, the flock of goats browsing on the -hillside with Moor watching them, and Czar lying beside him with his -head on his paws. There were studies of some of their favourite Alpine -flowers too, such as would be useful to carve from by-and-by, if Squib -continued to keep up that accomplishment; and almost everything Squib -most wanted to describe to the girls at home was illustrated in Seppi’s -book. - -There was even a portrait of Herr Adler in his long coat, pointing out -to Squib something in the rocks at their feet. Perhaps the faces were -not particularly like, being on so small a scale; but the general effect -was good, and Squib was very glad he had not let Seppi tear out the page -on which the hasty sketch had been drawn, as he wished to do, being -himself dissatisfied with it. - -Squib was ready by this time to go home. Seppi’s death had in a great -measure broken the tie which had bound his heart to the green valley; -and the thought of all the party at home, the pleasant summer holidays, -and the interest and excitement of preparing for school next term, drew -his thoughts and interests homewards like a magnet. - -The parting with Lisa was the only really hard thing, and that was hard; -for the pair had always been much attached, and the bond had been drawn -very close during these long summer weeks. - -However, they consoled themselves by promises of writing sometimes. Now -that there would be no Seppi to write to, Squib would have lost all news -of the valley and of his friends there if Lisa had not promised to keep -him informed from time to time. Her home was about midway between this -valley and the one in which the Ernsthausens were to set up in the -spring in their new hotel. She would be sure to hear and see something -of them from time to time, and would let her “Liebchen” know. - -Squib was permitted to spend a part of his money in the purchase of a -silver watch for Lisa, which he gave to her on the morning of departure. -Her wonder and delight helped them to get through the good-byes -wonderfully well, and it was rather a relief at the last to be actually -on their homeward way again. - -The first stages were taken slowly, and by the evening of the first day -the party only got as far as the place where Ernsthausen stayed during -the summer months. Here they remained for the night, and Colonel Rutland -hired a light carriage and drove Squib out in the evening to see the -spot where the hotel was to be built. As they approached it they saw -several peasants standing about and looking with great interest at what -was going on, and Colonel Rutland remarked with a smile,— - -“Ah, here is my friend Ernsthausen himself, measuring the level ground, -and seeing how best to pitch his building. We will go and speak to him.” - -This was all very interesting, and Squib highly enjoyed the encounter. -He did not know which to admire most—the gratitude and dignity of the -fine Swiss mountaineer, who now knew to whom he was indebted for this -piece of good fortune; or the pleasant, kindly manner of his father in -first accepting, then quietly putting aside the thanks, going into all -the calculations and measurements, dropping a hint here and making a -suggestion there, always to the point, and always eagerly listened to by -those standing by. - -“I am so glad we went,” cried Squib, as they got into the carriage at -last, followed by something very like a cheer from the peasants. “What a -nice place it will be when it is done! Father, do you think you will -ever bring me here again?” - -Colonel Rutland looked down at his small son, and seeing the eagerness -in the boy’s eyes, answered after a little thought— - -“Well, Squib, suppose we make a compact. You are going to school, and -for the next few years you will be busy and full of other -interests—interests which you cannot understand yet, but which will -absorb you immensely by-and-by. In the holidays you will want to be at -home with your brothers and sisters, and they will want you. But our -compact shall be this, Squib, that if you are an industrious boy at -school, if you do well there—do your best, I mean—and give satisfaction -to your masters, then when the time comes for you to leave—the time when -there is a break in a boy’s life, and often rather an unwelcome one—then -I will take you or send you to Switzerland once more for a couple of -months; and you shall do some mountaineering with Ernsthausen, provided -you are strong enough, and he is here to take care of you.” - -Squib’s eyes had been growing brighter and brighter during the course of -this speech. Now, after turning the delightful proposition over and over -in his mind for several minutes, he said,— - -“Oh, father, you _are_ kind to me! I will be good and diligent. I meant -to before, but I shall never forget now. I told Seppi I didn’t know if I -should ever come again, not till I was quite grown up and could do as I -liked. But now I shall always have this to look forward to! Oh, I am so -much obliged to you!” - -Colonel Rutland patted his son’s head as he replied,— - -“Being grown up, and doing as one likes in your sense of the word, my -little man, by no means always go together. When we look back at our -boyhood, we fancy it was then that we did as we liked, not now. The -fetters of life are much heavier as we go on than they are at starting, -as you will find for yourself one of these days.” - -Squib gave a quick upward glance at his father’s face, then turned -matters over and over in his mind for a long while, after which he broke -out in his vehement way,— - -“I know what you mean, father—at least I think I do. But I mean to like -everything I have to do, which is better than just doing as one likes. -You know that’s what Herr Adler does, and he’s always happy. I don’t -know what he does do, but it’s hard work, because Seppi says so; and yet -he says it is beautiful work, because he loves it so. He says everything -can be beautiful if it is done right—done the best way—done,” here Squib -dropped his voice to a whisper and added, “to the glory of God. Seppi -found it out. He said it was beautiful work to keep the goats on the -mountains, though at first it seemed so dull. I’m going to try that way -of doing everything and looking at everything. Then I shall always do as -I like, because I shall always like what I do.” - -The Colonel bent an earnest look at the child and said,— - -“Well, Squib, if coming to Switzerland has taught you that lesson, I -don’t think your journey has been in vain.” - -Going home was very interesting, Squib thought, though perhaps not quite -so exciting as going out, when everything had the charm of novelty. He -understood things better now, and could explain them all to Moor, who -was very much perplexed by some of his experiences, especially his first -introduction to trains, and his first sight of a large town and paved -streets. He was so afraid of being lost that he would not leave Squib’s -side for a single second, and had to be permitted to sleep at his bed’s -foot at night. This dependence formed a very strong bond between the dog -and the child; and before they reached England, Squib felt as if he must -have had Moor all his life, and his grief for the loss of Czar was very -much lessened. There would have been a great blank in his life if he had -had no canine companion especially his own; but Moor was more his own -even than Czar had been, and, being so much smaller in size, could come -much more indoors with him at home. His only trouble in prospect was the -thought which sometimes presented itself—“What will he do when I go to -school?” But Squib had always possessed a fund of philosophy of his own, -and would answer to himself, “Better wait and see what happens before -bothering. Perhaps he will get fond of them all at home, and will not -miss me more than Czar would have done. Everybody at home will be fond -of Moor for being such a good dog. He must learn to do without me -sometimes. He will have all the girls to love him.” - -And so Squib would not be troubled by the future, but enjoyed the -present very much, sitting in the corner of a railway carriage, whilst -Moor squeezed up beside him next the window, eagerly watching the flying -landscape, his ears very tightly pricked, his brown eyes full of light, -but quite content even amidst all this unwonted bustle and confusion so -long as he and his master were together. There was less trouble with him -than with Czar in travelling, on account of his smaller size. - -Squib occupied his leisure moments in trying to teach him English, as he -was afraid things would be very strange for him at the Chase if he did -not know any English words. He soon reached the conclusion that Moor had -a “natural gift for languages,” for he soon obeyed words of command as -readily in French or in English as in his native tongue. - -“I wonder if he will be sea-sick!” thought Squib, as he led him on board -the packet. “Poor Czar was, but perhaps Moor will be a better sailor. In -people, one can never tell.” - -Apparently Moor was a better sailor than Czar, for the slight motion of -the boat did not seem to affect him at all, and he presently grew so -much at home that at last he left his little master’s side and wandered -about on his own account. - -Presently Squib heard a short sharp bark, such as Moor was wont to give -when anything pleased him, and that roused the boy, who was leaning over -the ship’s side thinking about the home he was rapidly approaching, and -he went to see what had excited his companion. There were a good many -passengers on board that day, and Moor’s bark came from some distance -off, for Squib was right up in the prow, watching the sharp point cut -through the waves and throw back two great flashing scimitars of shining -water as it tore its way along, and the sound came from the hinder part -of the packet. - -Suddenly he came in view of Moor, triumphantly holding by the corner of -a gentleman’s long coat, and drawing him along with him; and a quick -flush rose in Squib’s face as he exclaimed joyfully,— - -“Herr Adler!” - -“My little friend the firework,” said Herr Adler, in his kind way, -holding out a hand and drawing the boy to him. “Squib with Seppi’s dog! -I could scarcely believe my eyes when Moor came and claimed -acquaintance. Have you got Seppi somewhere here? or how come you to have -his dog?” - -“Seppi is dead,” answered Squib gravely, “and he asked me when he was -dying to have Moor, and father said I might;” and then Squib launched -out into the history of the last weeks of his stay at the chalet, and -Herr Adler listened with undivided attention and sympathy, just putting -in a word here and there, “saying some of his nice things that leave you -feeling happy afterwards,” as Squib expressed it to his mother, but -leaving the greater part of the talk in the hands of the child. - -It was a great satisfaction to Squib to have this talk. - -“Seppi would have liked you to know everything, I’m sure,” he said in -conclusion, “because it was you who helped him so when he was lame -first. Isn’t it funny we should both he crossing in the same boat? It -seems like a beautiful thing to me. I think beautiful things do happen -to you, Herr Adler.” - -“I think they happen to all of us, my little friend, if we have eyes to -see and hearts to understand.” - -Squib looked up eagerly into the kind face and said,— - -“Oh, I think they do! I do indeed! Everything seems beautiful to me, I -mean about going to Switzerland and finding Seppi, and being his friend, -and meeting you and everything. I wonder whether it will go on being -like that always! Do you think it will, Herr Adler?” - -He was smiling in the way Squib remembered so well—the way that always -drew the children’s eyes to his face in eager anticipation of his next -words. - -“I hope it will, my child,” he said. “There is nothing to stop it, -unless we raise obstacles ourselves. Sad things may happen to us, but, -as you have found already, sad things can be beautiful things too. -Everything that comes to us from God has a beautiful side, if we can but -find it; and with what is evil, and comes not from Him, we must have -nothing to do. And the most beautiful thing of all is surely coming, and -may come any day. We must always live in that hope, and then everything -about us is beautiful.” - -Squib did not entirely comprehend what those last words meant, but that -did not matter. Children do not ask to comprehend all they hear; it is -enough that they apprehend something beyond their ken which lifts their -hearts upwards. The pair sat side by side for some minutes in silence, -and then the boy said with a sigh of contentment,— - -“I am so glad I have seen you again. Now will you come and see my -mother? I am sure she would like it.” - -After that there was no more private talk between Squib and his friend, -but he kept by Herr Adler’s side, and enjoyed hearing him talk with his -parents and uncle. They all liked him so much—Squib was quite proud of -the fact. Everybody loved Herr Adler who came across him. As Squib -expressed it, “They just couldn’t help it!” - -“Well, good-bye, my little friend,” said Herr Adler at last, as the boat -was slowly steaming within the great stone crescent that guarded the -harbour; “perhaps some day we may meet again; but whether or not we do -here, we shall meet one day, and know each other again. Be a good boy, -and never forget whose child you are. A very happy home-returning to -you! What a clamour there will be when they all come out to meet -you—brothers and sisters, and horses and dogs! I should like to be there -to see!” - -“Oh, do come, sir!” cried Squib eagerly. “I’m sure they would all so -like it!” - -But Herr Adler shook his head, though he was smiling all the time. - -“Thank you, my little man, but those pleasant things cannot be. -Good-bye, my child. You must go to your parents now.” - -The boat had come to a standstill, the great engine had ceased to throb. -There began to be a movement amongst the passengers. Squib knew that he -must not linger now. Although he was growing to be a big boy, and was -not much in the way of kissing now, he suddenly lifted his face to Herr -Adler’s and received a kiss from him. - -The next minute his friend had passed across the narrow gangway, and was -with the crowd on the shore. Squib waved his hand to him once, and then -turned quickly back, joining his father and mother almost before they -had had time to miss him. - -“I was just saying good-bye to Herr Adler,” he said. “I’m so glad we met -him again!” - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - CONCLUSION. - - -Squib was on the box-seat of the carriage, squeezed in between coachman -and footman. His eyes were bright with excitement; his flood of eager -questions, which had not ceased to be poured out since leaving the -station, now ceased suddenly—for there was the house rising up before -his eyes; here was the inner gate dividing garden from park; and there -was the great hall door standing open wide, a flood of bright lamplight -pouring out into the warm dusk of the summer night. - -It was eight o’clock by this time, and the sun had dipped behind the -hill (Squib could not quite make out what had happened to that hill; it -always used to be so high, and now it looked so funny and low), but -there was still a warm red glow all over the western sky, though the -shadows were darkening, and the dusk was creeping on. It was almost -August by this time, and the longest days had come and gone since Squib -had been at home. - -[Illustration: - - “_Squib’s brothers and sisters rejoiced over the pretty gifts he had - brought them._” - - Page 283. -] - -“There they are!—there they are!” cried Squib, jumping up and down upon -the box in his excitement. “I can see them out on the steps! Oh, how -nice it is, getting home! I thought going away was the nicest; but I do -think coming back is better!” - -In another minute the carriage had dashed up to the door, and there -arose a chorus of voices. - -“Squib!—Squib!—Father!—Mother! O mother, how glad we are to have you -back!—Squib! Squib!” and from the twins, allowed on this evening of all -evenings to sit up for mother’s kiss, a little echo in their -high-pitched, baby voices—“Kwib!—Kwib!” - -Squib was off the box before the carriage had stopped, and was -immediately the centre of a bevy of sisters, all trying to hug him -together. He might be the odd one of the family, with no special comrade -of his own; but the sisters found they had missed him terribly all these -weeks, and were delighted to have him back once more. The big brothers -from school did not fill the niche which Squib always occupied; and now -they had got him back, it seemed as if they did not know how to make -enough of him. Norman and Frank slapped him on the back, and looked with -a certain respect at one who had seen so much that was strange to them. -The babies put their fingers into their mouths, and gazed at him with -solemn admiration. They were just a little bit shy of the parents they -had not seen for almost three months, but they were not shy of Squib, -and kept very close to him, till at last, in the midst of the tumult of -greetings and questions going on in the big hall, they pulled hard at -his hands, and pointing to a corner of the place where a great chair -stood, said in eager whispers,— - -“Who’s that, Kwib?” - -Squib looked and saw poor Moor. Perplexed by the hubbub and tumult, -which he somehow felt to be different in kind from any former experience -he had been through, and rather alarmed by the number of people, and the -presence of a couple of house-dogs, jumping up upon everybody in joyous -excitement, he had taken himself off to this obscure corner, and had -effaced himself as far as he could beneath the chair, waiting till his -little master should have leisure to notice him again, and tell him what -he was to do. - -“That’s Moor,” answered Squib eagerly; “come and talk to him, and make -him feel at home. He’s such a nice dog! Seppi gave him to me. I’ll tell -you all about Seppi some day when we have time. But come and see Moor -now. I’m sure he’ll like it. He likes being loved.” - -“Where’s poor Czar?” asked Hilda, as they went across the hall willingly -with Squib. - -“He’s dead,” answered Squib sadly. “Didn’t you know?” - -The twins had heard that something tragic had happened to Czar, but were -not quite sure of its nature. They had rather feared the huge dog, and -did not personally regret him, though always sorrowful for anything that -other people thought sad. - -“Won’t he ever come back again?” asked Hulda; and Squib shook his head. - -“No, he’s buried in Switzerland; I’ll show you a picture of his grave. -I’ve brought Moor home instead. Father said I might.” - -Moor by this time had advanced a few yards from his retreat, and was -wagging all over, as dogs have a talent for doing when rather forlorn or -shy, but anxious above all things to propitiate. - -Hilda and Hulda, who had grown up amongst animals, and loved them -dearly, were on their knees beside him in a moment, calling him by all -sorts of endearing names, and receiving his grateful and affectionate -kisses with great joy. As for Moor, he did not know how to show his -affection enough. He squirmed and wriggled, and thumped his tail upon -the parqueterie floor, and fawned first upon one little girl and then -upon the other. They ran to the dining-room and got him biscuits; and -were wonderfully taken by the little tricks he did for them, and, above -all, by his comprehension of another language, when Squib gave the words -of command in his own home-patois. - -“Oh, isn’t he a clever doggie! Oh, isn’t he a dear doggie!” they cried -again and again, interrupting proceedings by their eager kisses and -caresses. “Oh, may we have him in the nursery when you don’t want him, -Kwib dear? We never had a nursery dog—and he is such a dear one! Oh, -good Moor!—nice Moor! Oh, isn’t he kind and gentle! I think he’s much -nicer than Czar; but then Czar wasn’t nice to us as he was to you, -Kwib.” - -The delight of the children was great. They could hardly tear themselves -away from the new pet, till a message came that they were to say -good-night to father and mother, and go to bed. - -“May Moor come with us?” they asked, and Squib gladly consented, for he -was afraid Nip and Koko might not be very friendly to a stranger the -first night, though they would be certain to make friends later on. - -“Kwib’s brought home _such_ a nice doggie!” they cried, as they pressed -up to say good-night; “and he’s coming with us now, 'cause he feels -rather strange just at first.” - -“That is right, darlings,” answered the mother. “Make him happy, and -give him a nice supper; for he’s a very good doggie, and very fond of -little people”—and the twins trotted off hand-in-hand perfectly happy, -with Moor snuggling in between them, very willing to do anything that -was desired of him when Squib had explained that he would come too -by-and-by. - -So Squib sat at table with the elders that evening, at a meal that was -something like dinner and tea and supper all rolled into one. He sat at -a corner, between Mary and Philippa, and poured a perfect broadside of -information into their willing ears as he ate. As for them, they -listened greedily, and piled his plate with every kind of delicacy. It -_was_ nice to be home again, Squib thought, although he had enjoyed -himself so much away. It was nice to find out how very kind his sisters -were. He felt he had not quite appreciated them before. They were so -glad to have him back, and made so much of him, although he was younger -than they, and they wanted to know everything that he had to tell them. - -But it was getting late to-night; and mother by-and-by told him he must -run off to bed, and finish his stories to-morrow. Squib felt that it -would take a great many to-morrows before all was told; but when he came -to think of it, he found that he _was_ rather sleepy, and he did want to -see how his own little iron bedstead would look after the funny wooden -ones he had slept on all these weeks. - -His bedroom was in the nursery wing, and he had to pass his little -sisters’ door before he reached his own. As he softly stepped along the -matted corridor, he heard the soft flopping of a tail against the -boards, and found Moor stretched out upon the mat just outside the -night-nursery. - -“Good dog! good Moor!” he said, pausing to pat him. “Yes, take care of -the little mistresses all night. Good dog! good old fellow!” - -The sound of his voice attracted the attention of nurse, who came out of -the day-nursery with a beaming face. - -“Master Squib, my dear, how well you look, and how brown! and I declare -if you haven’t grown, too! Well, we shall all be glad to see you back, I -am sure. The young ladies have missed you sadly since you went. But -there, there, as I tell them, they’ll have to get used to it, seeing -that you are just going off to school.” - -“But it’s nice of them to miss me—I didn’t think they would,” said -Squib, holding nurse’s hand and looking up into her face, and thinking -how nice and kind it was. “Oh, nurse, Lisa sent her love to you, and -such a lot of messages. I’ve got something in my box that she knitted -for you, too. I’ve got _such_ a lot of things to unpack to-morrow. I’ve -brought such a heap of things home. And Moor has come instead of Czar. -I’m dreadfully sorry poor Czar is dead; but I think the children will -like Moor better. And he is our very own; and we may have him in the -nursery, mother says.” - -Squib looked up under his eyebrows at nurse as he spoke, for he was not -quite sure how she would take to the idea of a nursery dog—she had never -favoured Czar’s presence there; but she was looking quite smiling and -pleasant, and even put out a hand to stroke Moor, who had come up at the -sound of his name, and seemed to desire to propitiate the presiding -authority of these regions. - -“Well, he seems a nice, faithful, attached creature, and Miss Hilda and -Miss Hulda are so set on animals, there’s no keeping them away. If your -mother does not mind having the dog up here, and he’ll be clean and -quiet, I don’t say but he might be useful in his way. It’s a long way -from here to the kitchens when I’m at supper, and now you’ll be so much -away, Master Squib, I confess I haven’t always been quite comfortable to -think of leaving them all alone, in the dark days, so far from -everybody. But a nice, sensible dog up here beside their door would make -me quite happy. And he seems wonderful understanding with children—as -though he was used to them. I’ve taken rather a fancy to him myself, I -own; though I never liked that big Russian fellow. I never felt that he -mightn’t turn upon them if they teased him; and he’d soon have made an -end of a child if he’d been angry.” - -“He never turned on anybody when I was with him,” said Squib; “though I -know people called him fierce. But Moor is very good and gentle. You -should have seen how he took care of Seppi.” - -And then Squib went to his room, nurse coming with him to help him to -unpack a few things that he was anxious about, and to get to bed; and -whilst she did this he told her the story of little Seppi, and how good -and faithful Moor had always been. So that nurse was quite reconciled to -the idea of a nursery dog, and Moor slept contentedly at the -night-nursery door, with his eyes (when he was awake) on that of his -little master’s room. - -How exciting it was, waking up the next morning, to find himself really -at home! - -Squib leaped out of bed the moment he thoroughly realized this, and -began dressing in great haste, without even looking at his precious -watch. When he did look at it at last, he found it was only six o’clock. - -“But never mind,” he said to himself; “I shall have all the more time to -see everything.” - -Moor jumped eagerly up when his master appeared, and was delighted to -accompany him out of doors. - -“Things have a different smell here,” was Squib’s first thought as he -let himself out into the fresh, morning air; “I should know I wasn’t in -Switzerland by that. I wonder if Moor notices the difference.” - -Moor was at any rate immensely interested in this place, which Squib was -careful to explain to him was his home now. He raced hither and thither, -with his nose to the ground, and sniffed eagerly at everything. - -Squib’s first journey was to the paddock where Charger was generally to -be found when he was turned out. The nights had been so warm that he did -not think he would have been taken in for shelter; and when he neared -the place, sure enough there was Charger quietly cropping the dewy -grass, and flicking off the flies with his tail; but as Squib ran -forward, calling out his name, he threw up his head, and came trotting -up to the fence. - -“Good old Charger! nice old horse!” cried Squib, caressing the soft nose -and feeding his favourite with lumps of sugar from his pocket. He had -brought home some of the funny French sugar on purpose for Charger, and -very much the good horse seemed to like it. - -“May I have a ride, Charger?” he asked, and Charger arched his neck and -gave an answering whinny, and the next minute Squib mounted the iron -railing, and made a quick spring upon the broad back of his friend. In a -moment he was firmly seated with his hands in the thick mane of the -horse, and Charger set out on a little canter round and round his -paddock, whilst Moor careered after him in wild excitement, this being -quite a new experience for him. - -“You will often run with Charger now,” Squib explained to him as he -rolled himself off: the horse and dog made mutual acquaintance by gently -sniffing at each other, and from that moment they were friends. Moor was -often afterwards to be seen trotting off to see Charger either in -paddock or in stable, as the case might be. Sometimes he would jump into -the empty manger, and sit an hour there holding silent converse with -him. It soon became recognized throughout the household that Moor was a -“character,” and he was accorded the liberty and consideration which -such individuals usually earn. Everybody liked him, and all were pleased -when he singled them out for notice; but he was reserved in the main, -and kept the wealth of his affections for his own master and the little -twin girls. - -To them he was intensely devoted, and nurse soon found that he could be -quite useful to her in taking charge of the little ones, either in the -garden or even on the roads, if she had an errand to do and did not wish -them to come into the cottage where she might have to go. With Moor to -take care of them they were perfectly safe; for he would not allow a -stranger to approach or address them, nor would he permit them to get -into mischief, or to wander away from him or from one another. He -treated them as he had been used to treat a straying goat, running round -and barking at them, and keeping them together and in the right place; -and his antics were always so entertaining to the little ones, that they -were kept quite amused and happy till nurse returned to them. - -So Moor won for himself a place in the household; and by the time that -Squib had to go to school, he was able to say philosophically to -himself, “Well, it was just a good thing I didn’t worry about leaving -Moor behind. He’ll miss me, of course; but he’s got Hilda and Hulda and -Charger to be fond of. He won’t pine a bit. He’s much too sensible; and -I shall tell him that I shall come back. He’ll quite understand. It’s -not a bit of good to worry over things beforehand. They come much -righter if one is just sensible and lets them alone!” - -But all that was much later of course. School still seemed distant when -Squib returned home to find himself something of a hero. - -He was a greater hero than ever when the boxes were unpacked, and tray -after tray of odds and ends, incalculably precious to children, were -carried into the nursery to be distributed and explained. - -Oh, how the brothers and sisters did rejoice over the pretty little -gifts their brother had brought for them, and almost more over the -quantities of little things he had carved himself! Really, when all -these were collected together there was a goodly array. There was -something for everybody in the house, and for all the men in the yard -too. And even when all these were arranged for, there were quantities -left, and the nursery and the girls’ rooms were filled with trifles that -little people love to collect about them—goats and dogs, and horses and -chalets, and paper knives, trays, and little boxes. Not only were there -all Squib’s carvings, but numbers of Seppi’s too; for Frau Ernsthausen -had given Squib a box of these at the last, which he had not opened till -he got home; and now it was found to contain all manner of pretty little -trifles such as Swiss boys so often make in the winter months; and -Seppi’s work was always good, he took such pains with it. - -Squib was thought a most wonderful traveller as he produced these -stores, with a perfect flood of reminiscences and anecdotes in -connection with them. Breathlessly was the history of his acquaintance -with Seppi listened to, and tears stood in the sisters’ eyes as the -pathetic little story was told. - -As for Moor, he was loved even more when it was told how good and -faithful he had been; how he had acted like a sort of crutch to Seppi; -and above all, how he had come all that way across the valley and found -his way to the chalet to summon Squib to the side of his dying master. -Squib always told that part of the story with a certain awe; for he felt -that something beyond mere instinct had guided the creature’s steps, and -he scarcely knew how to give expression to the ideas which this thought -suggested. - -But as the days flew by, and the first excitement of Squib’s return died -a natural death, there was still one favourite pastime that never failed -the children, but which seemed to grow more and more fascinating with -familiarity. And this was to get Squib to produce Seppi’s sketch-book, -and sitting all together in a cluster on the broad, low nursery window -seat, to turn the pages slowly over, and make Squib tell the story of -every picture. - -Amongst so many favourites it was hard to say which was first, but -perhaps it was the sketch of Czar’s grave; for that always elicited the -story of the terrible thunder-storm amongst the mountains, to which the -sisters would listen with the most breathless interest. The drawings of -the snow-peaks and the Silent Watchers had a great fascination also, and -Squib would tell the legends of the peasantry about the Bergmännlein and -the Seligen Fräulein. But at the end he would always add,— - -“But that’s all make-up, you know. It isn’t true. It’s not like the -stories Herr Adler tells.” - -As for Herr Adler’s stories, they were a perfect mine of wealth to the -children. When for any reason Squib failed to remember any fresh -adventure of his own to relate, Hilda or Hulda would quickly turn the -pages till they came to the one which represented Herr Adler in his long -coat pointing something out to Squib with the end of his stick, and then -they would all cry out in a breath,— - -“Never mind, Squib; tell us one of Herr Adler’s stories. His are the -nicest after all!” - -So Herr Adler became a household word in that nursery, and in future, if -Squib caught himself in the act of being slovenly, selfish, disobedient, -or wasteful, he would pull himself up shortly on remembering how he had -been taught always to give his best, always to try after the highest, to -make his life a beautiful thing, and to find everything round him -beautiful, as no one can ever do who is not struggling with his faults, -and seeking to follow in the footsteps of One who pleased not Himself. - -Then he soon found that when there was discord in the nursery or -schoolroom, and voices were raised in grumbling, or fault-finding, or -scolding, and he suddenly said,—“I don’t know what Herr Adler _would_ -say to us if he saw us now!” it generally produced a sudden lull, and -they would all look at each other and begin to wonder how the quarrel -had commenced. - -“I wish Herr Adler would come and see _us_ some day,” said Philippa -once, when there had been a good many breezes through the house, and the -children had at last made peace, and agreed that there had been nothing -to quarrel about, but that they were just naughty and silly; “I think he -would make us all good.” - -Squib was squatting on the window-seat looking out over the park, and -wondering why he was cross with his sisters, of whom he was so fond, -when he had hardly ever felt cross all the time he had been in -Switzerland. - -“He wouldn’t like you to say that,” he answered quickly. - -“Why not? I thought you said he always did make you feel good.” - -“So he does,” answered Squib, wrinkling up his brow in the effort to -formulate the thought in his brain, but failing to find adequate words -in which to express it. After some moments of silence he broke out in -his squib-like way: “Yes, I just wish he _would_ come, and then you -would understand. I can’t make you, because you’ve never seen anybody -like him. I think”—with a flash of sudden inspiration—“it’s because he’s -a man of God. That’s what Seppi said, and I’m sure he’s right. You just -feel that all the time he’s talking. And that’s what makes everything -about him just what it is.” - -After which very lucid statement Squib subsided into silence. - -But I think the sisters understood him, in spite of the difficulty of -expression, because children, and especially brothers and sisters, have -a wonderful gift of reading each others’ hearts and minds by a species -of intuition; and after a little pause of silence, Mary said -thoughtfully,— - -“I think I know what you mean, Squib dear. We oughtn’t to think just -whether this person or that person would be pleased by what we do, -although, of course, we must try to please our parents; but we must try -most to please God; and He always sees us and knows what we are saying -and doing. That’s what you mean, isn’t it?” - -Squib nodded with some vehemence, but answered nothing, and the subject -dropped; yet the children did not forget, and even the little twins -would sometimes say to each other in whispers,— - -“We shouldn’t do that if we knew Herr Adler could see us—but God always -sees. We mustn’t do anything He would mind.” - -Now after that journey to Switzerland, Squib no longer found himself the -odd one of the family. His brothers recognized qualities and experiences -in him which made them willing to patronize him and make a comrade of -him in many things; whilst the sisters found him always an addition to -their party, and always had a welcome for him. Moor was a great bond at -first—Moor and the picture-book and the stories—and the bond once formed -was never loosened, but grew stronger and stronger, even though Squib -had to go to school and pass months away from them all. - -But that is the way of the world, and boys and girls make light of it, -provided they still have happy holidays together, which they certainly -do at Rutland Chase. Squib is still looking eagerly forward to the day -when he will finish his school life and claim the promised reward. He is -very happy at school, to be sure, but what boy ever did fail to look -beyond? and Squib’s retentive memory and Lisa’s half-yearly letters all -serve to keep that purpose alive in him. - -The mountaineer’s hotel in the valley is growing and flourishing. The -Ernsthausens are substantial people and have paid off the last of the -debt. And Squib still talks grandly to his little sisters of the day -when he will go to that hotel and climb all the great mountain peaks -under the escort of Seppi’s father. - - - THE END. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected typographical errors. - 2. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Squib and His Friends, by Evelyn Everett-Green - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SQUIB AND HIS FRIENDS *** - -***** This file should be named 54994-0.txt or 54994-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/9/9/54994/ - -Produced by Richard Tonsing, readbueno and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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