much as if the attempt to save
Crippy's life would be a dismal failure.

"I'm doin' this so's you won't have to be killed, Crippy," whispered Dan
as he held the goose tightly clasped in his arms, "an' it does seem's if
you might help a feller instead of tryin' to wake up father an' mother."

Perhaps Crippy was weary with struggling--Dan thought he began to
realize his position--for he ceased all protests after his master's last
appeal, and, with his head tucked under Dan's coat, submitted quietly to
the rescue.

If he had not repeated to himself so many times that he was not running
away from home, but simply going to uncle Robert's to save poor Crippy's
life, Dan would have felt that he was doing something wrong because of
the warning cries uttered by everything around. The stable door, when he
tried to close it softly, shut with a spiteful clatter, and even the
snow gave forth a sharp, crunching sound such as he had never heard
before. But he must keep on, for to remain would be to see the plump,
brown body of poor Crippy on the Thanksgiving dinner table, while to go
on would be, at the worst, but a few hours' discomfort, with Crip's life
as the reward.

Once they were out of doors Crippy behaved much as if he had suddenly
realized how important it was for him to get away from the Hardy farm,
and Dan had no trouble with him while he was passing the house.

There seemed to be an unnatural stillness everywhere, amid which the
crunching of the dry snow sounded with a distinctness that almost
frightened the boy who was simply going to his uncle Robert's to spend a
day or two. But finally Dan was on the main road, where the snow was
frozen so hard that his footsteps could not be heard as distinctly, and
where the two tracks worn smooth by the runners of the sleighs, lay
spread out before him, looking like two satin ribbons on white
broadcloth.

[Illustration: ON THE WAY.]

Dan trudged slowly on, his heart growing lighter as the moments went by
and he knew he had actually gotten away without arousing any one; but
after he had walked some distance he began to realize how heavy Crippy
was. He had thought he could carry his pet almost any length of time;
but at the very commencement of his journey his arms began to ache.

"It's no use, Crippy, you'll have to walk some of the way," he said as
he put the goose on the snow, and then started off to show him he must
follow. Now a moonlight promenade on the snow, in the mo