ears at the Place, and far beyond. For the bark of a dog has
more carrying power than has any other sound of double its volume. But,
in the face of a sixty-mile gale laden with tons of flying snow, the
report of a cannon could scarce have carried over the stretch of
windswept ground between the ravine and the Place.

Lad seemed to understand this. For, after a dozen thunderous barks, he
fell silent; and stood again, head on one side, in thought.

At first sound of the barking, Cyril had recognized the dog. And his
terror had vanished. In its place surged a peevish irritation against
the beast that had so frightened him. He groped for a rock-fragment to
hurl up at the rackety collie.

Then, the child paused in his fumbling. The dog had scant reason to
love him or to seek his society. Of late, Lad had kept out of his way
as much as possible. Thus it was not likely the collie had come here of
his own accord, on such a night; for the mere joy of being with his
tormentor.

His presence must mean that the Master was close behind; and that the
whole Place was in a ferment of anxiety about the wanderer. By stoning
Lad away and checking the barks, Cyril might well prevent the searchers
from finding him. Too weak and too numb with cold to climb up the
five-foot cliff-face to the level ground above, he did not want to miss
any chance for rescue.

Hence, as Lad ceased to bark, the child set up a yell, with all his
slight lung-power, to attract the seekers' notice. He ordered Lad to
"Speak!" and shook his fist angrily at the dog, when no answering bark
followed.

Despairing of making anyone hear his trumpeting announcement that he
had found the child, Lad presently made up his mind as to the only
course that remained. Wheeling about, head down, he faced the storm
again; and set off at what speed he could compass, toward home, to lead
the Master to the spot where Cyril was trapped. This seemed the only
expedient left. It was what he had done, long ago, when Lady had caught
her foot in a fox-trap, back in the woods.

As the dog vanished from against the gray-black sky-line, Cyril set up
a howl of wrathful command to him to come back. Anything was better
than to be in this dreary spot alone. Besides, with Lad gone, how could
Lad's Master find the way to the ledge?

Twice the child called after the retreating collie. And, in another few
steps, Lad had halted and begun to retrace his way toward the ledge.

He did not return b