ed forward; Tita
waited with Rast. They had been sitting on a crag for several minutes,
when suddenly Rast exclaimed: "Hallo! there's Spotty's dog! he has been
lost for three days, the scamp. I'll go up and catch him, and be back in
a moment." While still speaking he was already scaling the rocks above
them, not following the path by which Anne had ascended, but swinging
himself up, hand over hand, with the dexterity and strength of a
mountaineer; in a minute or two he was out of sight. Spotty's dog was a
favorite in the garrison, Spotty, a dilapidated old Irish soldier, being
his owner in name. Spotty said that the dog had "followed" him, when he
was passing through Detroit; if he did, he had never repeated the act,
but had persistently gone in the opposite direction ever since. But the
men always went out and hunted for him all over the island, sooner or
later finding him and bringing him back; for they liked to see him dance
on his mournful hind legs, go through the drill, and pretend to be
dead--feats which once formed parts of his repertoire as member of the
travelling canine troupe which he had deserted at Detroit. It was
considered quite an achievement to bring back this accomplished animal,
and Rast was not above the glory. But it was not to be so easy as he had
imagined: several minutes passed and he did not return, Spotty's dog
having shown his thin nose and one eye but an instant at the top of the
height, and then withdrawn them, leaving no trace behind.

"We will go up the path, and join Anne," said Pere Michaux; "we will not
wait longer for Rast. He can find us there as well as here."

They started; but after a few steps the priest's foot slipped on a
rolling stone; he lost his balance, and half fell, half sank to the
ground, fortunately directly along the narrow path, and not beyond its
edge. When he attempted to rise, he found that his ankle was strained:
he was a large man, and he had fallen heavily. Tita bound up the place
as well as she could with his handkerchief and her own formed into a
bandage; but at best he could only hobble. He might manage to go down
the path to the house, but evidently he could not clamber further. Again
they waited for Rast, but he did not come. They called, but no one
answered. They were perched half way up the white cliff, where no one
could hear them. Tita's whole face had grown darkly red, as though the
blood would burst through; she looked copper-colored, and her express