their
cloud-capped summits nothing could be seen but snow--dazzling, blinding
white snow, and wreaths of vapor which congealed as it fell. All day the
people of the hamlets had been preparing for the visitor, knowing full
well that they should be housed for weeks after its descent, and as
Christmas was approaching, it was needful that much should be done.

As the day grew darker, each hurried to complete his or her work, and
none essayed more eagerly to do this than young Franz, the goatherd; but
try as he would, the heedless, wanton little flock were constantly
escaping from him, and if it had not been for Jan, the great mastiff of
the famous St. Bernard breed, he would have been still more troubled. As
it was, he found one goat missing when he went to house them, and again
he had to take his alpenstock and try what he could do.

By this time the storm was indeed upon them, and between the wind and
the snow, the icy atmosphere and the darkness, Franz had about concluded
to let the goat go, when Jan began to sniff about and bark, and show by
signs as easily read as print that he was seeking something. Franz
thought it must be on account of the goat, but just then old Nan
appeared with her customary capriciousness, and made no resistance to
the cord with which Franz bound her.

Still Jan kept up his scratching and sniffing and barking, and Franz
knew only too well that there was no use in opposing him, although his
fingers and toes were half frozen.

As soon as the dog saw that Franz recognized the necessity of following
him he quieted down, and with a zealous industry nosed the path from
side to side, as if in search of something; nor did he have to go far,
for they presently descried what seemed like a big snow-heap on one side
of the now undiscoverable path.

Here Jan halted and looked intently; then he began scratching and
whining again, and Franz saw a bit of cloth. Soon an arm appeared, and
next a leg, and after vigorous work from both Franz and Jan, the whole
figure of a child, clasping something in its arms, was uncovered. Dead
or alive, Franz knew not which it was; but very well he knew what it was
the child carried, for its big bushy red tail showed it to be a fox, and
it too was as motionless and lifeless as the child.

The goatherd had braved the dangers of the mountains all his lifetime,
and knew how to be cool and decided in the presence of danger. He had
his knife and drinking-cup beside him, and his