" for his young
master. Gringalet was an orphan from the time of his birth, and had
found in the Indian a most attentive foster-parent. Three times a day he
gave his adopted child milk through a piece of rag tied over the neck of
a bottle. The dog had grown up by the side of his young master; many a
time, doubtless, he had snatched from his hands the half-eaten cake, but
such casualties were only a temporary check upon their mutual
attachment. He manifested, therefore, a decided preference for three
objects--Lucien, his nurse, and bottles in general. I was at first
rather vexed that the poor beast should have taken upon himself the
liberty of joining our expedition, so I tried to drive him back.
Gringalet ran to take refuge by the side of Lucien, with ears laid back,
and one paw raised; and looked at me with such mild eyes, so full of
supplication, that I could not find it in my heart to carry out my
intention. Sumichrast and l'Encuerado both interceded for the animal,
which, crouching and wagging his tail, came and lay down humbly at my
feet. Lucien, who was afraid I should behave harshly to his favorite,
hid his face in his hands. I was vanquished.

"Come along, then, and let us take Gringalet!" I said.

So I caressed the dog, which, clearly seeing that he had gained his
cause, bounded along the road in the most extravagant leaps, clearly
indicative of his emotions of pleasure. In spite of all his efforts to
keep them back, tears escaped from Lucien's eyes, and I had to turn my
head away to avoid having to recall the promise he made to refrain from
crying. But, nevertheless, although I wished him to learn how to bear
stoically any physical suffering, I had no desire to quench in him the
evidences of a feeling heart--that potent source of our sweetest
pleasure and our bitterest sorrow.

The gates of the town were still closed. On arriving in front of the
guard-house, I rapped at the window to awake the old man, the guardian
of the keys of the town.

"Won't he open the gate for us? Shall we be obliged to go home again?
Can't we start to-day, M. Sumichrast?" eagerly asked Lucien.

"Keep quiet," replied Sumichrast; "the porter is an old man, and we are
disturbing him earlier than we ought, which always puts him a little out
of temper. However active we may be, it is a good thing to know 'how to
wait.'"

At last the door-keeper made his appearance, the chains dropped one by
one, the heavy gate turned on its hinges,