lder, what terrors would have affrighted the child!
An appalling dread of the Indians, fear of the wild cattle of the
wilderness, the apprehension of countless dangers. But in her baby
innocence, Tilderee knew nothing of these perils. She only felt that
she was weary and chilled, and faint for want of food. "Oh Fudge, if
we could only get home to mother!" she moaned. "Tilderee's so tired
and sleepy, and it will be dark night soon." At the thought she threw
herself on the ground and began to cry bitterly.

Fudge looked disconsolate. A second he stood irresolute and
distressed, but presently drew nearer, and, with unobtrusive sympathy,
licked away the salt tears that rolled down her chubby cheeks. Then he
roused himself, as if he comprehended that something must be done, and
ran to and fro, barking with all his might, and poking about with his
nose to the earth. At length he came upon a nook under a projecting
rock, which seemed to promise a slight shelter from the cold night air.
Perhaps it was the instinct of self-preservation which led him to
attract the attention of his helpless companion to it. Several times
he returned to her, looked beseechingly into her face, then ran back to
the rock.

"You want me to go in there, Fudge?" she faltered at last, noticing his
antics. "Well, I will. P'rhaps it'll be warmer. And I'm afraid
nobody'll come now till morning."

Dispirited, Tilderee dragged herself to the refuge he had found. "I
'xpect it's time for night prayers," she said, with a tremor in her
voice; "and I always say them with mother or Joan." Now she knelt upon
the damp mould, made the Sign of the Cross, and, clasping her
brier-scratched hands, repeated the "Our Father" and "Hail Mary" more
devoutly than ever before. When she came to the special little
petition at the close, "Please, God, take care of Tilderee, and keep
her and Fudge out of mischief," she broke down again, and, weeping
convulsively, threw her arms around the neck of her obstreperous but
loyal playmate and friend, exclaiming, "Oh Fudge! if we ever get safe
home we'll never be naughty again, will we?"

Yet exhausted nature stills even the cry of grief and penitence.
Tilderee, moreover, felt wonderfully comforted by her prayer. To the
pure heart of a child Heaven is ever "close by." From her rude asylum
under the cliff the little wanderer looked across at the sky. It was
clear and bright with myriad stars. Suddenly one flashed acros