ave,
stretching away as far as the eye could reach, a smooth, not over steep,
snowy slope. So far there was little fear of the sledge being overset.

Then, after he had run a long way, he paused, for there were now two
tracks instead of one. The marks of the bear went up a little side
valley, the marks of the sledge went down the slope. What could have
happened? Had Tumbu in his haste missed the bear's trail? That was not
likely. Having come so far, had he determined to go on? That was not
likely either, unless the children had urged him forward. Knowing
Mirak's bold, adventurous spirit, this seemed possible, and Roy's heart
sank; but he started off running again, knowing that no matter what had
happened he must follow his little master, and follow fast.

But as he ran downward and downward the frost film on the snow became
less and less firm. The sun was rising now, and even its earliest rays
seemed to melt his foothold, and he began to sink at every step. The
sledge, however, appeared from the faint marks it left to have slid on
without difficulty. No doubt, he thought, because of the children's
light weight, and because the platform between the swords and scabbards
which supported them was so large; many times larger than his own feet!
Why, even Tumbu's four broad, furry paws had sunk into the snow a
little, and would doubtless have sunk more but for the pace at which he
must have been going.

The sledge was the thing! How clever it was of Old Faithful to remember
Firdoos Gita Makani's way of saving his horse; but after all, when one
came to think of it, the thanks were due to Babar the brave for being a
real King, kind-hearted to animals.

And now Roy's task became dangerous as well as hard, for every moment
lessened the firmness of the ice film. And he was now running down a
shallow valley, which was completely blocked up by drift, except in the
very middle, where every now and again you got a glimpse of a roaring
torrent--kept unfrozen by its snowy covering--hollowing its way
downward; but for the most part it was invisible, the only sign of it
being a roar, a tremble beneath your feet. Thus he was, as it were, on a
snow bridge, of which the surface might at any moment give way. And that
meant certain death in the dark pools below. In one place, indeed, he
was all but lost; however, a wild leap landed him on safe ground, and
with a gasp of fear, not for himself, but for the children ahead of
him, he ran on, co