difficult, for the
large tree was covered with ice and snow.

When I was quite small I had learned to climb trees, and I was quite an
adept in this art. I jumped and caught hold of the lowest branches. I
held onto these, and, although blinded by the snow that fell in my eyes,
I managed to climb up the trunk to the stronger branches. Once up there
I had only to be careful not to lose my footing.

As I climbed I spoke softly to Pretty-Heart. He did not move, but looked
at me with shining eyes. I had almost reached him and was about to
stretch out my hand, when, with a spring, he had jumped to another
branch. I followed him to this branch, but men, alas, and even
youngsters are very inferior to monkeys when it comes to climbing trees.
It is quite possible that I should never have caught him if the snow had
not wet his feet. He did not like this and soon got tired of dodging me;
then, letting himself drop from branch to branch, he jumped straight
onto his master's shoulders and hid himself inside his coat.

It was a great thing to have found Pretty-Heart, but that was not all.
Now we had to look for the dogs.

It was day now and easy for us to see what had happened. In the snow we
read the death of our dogs. We followed their footprints for thirty
yards. They had come out of the hut, one behind the other, Dulcie
following Zerbino. Then we saw other footprints. On one side there were
signs of a struggle where the wolves had sprung upon the dogs, and on
the other sides were the footprints of the wolves where they trotted
off, carrying their prey with them, to be devoured at their leisure.
There was no trace of the dogs except a red trail of blood which here
and there stained the snow.

The two poor dogs had gone to their death while I slept!

We had to get busy as quickly as possible with warming Pretty-Heart. We
hurried back to the hut. While Vitalis held out the little creature's
feet and hands to the fire, as one holds a tiny baby, I warmed his
coverlets and we rolled him up in them. But he needed more than the
coverlets; he needed a warm drink. My master and I sat by the fire,
silent, watching the wood burn.

"Poor Zerbino; poor Dulcie!"

Each of us murmured these words; first he, then I.

The dogs had been our friends, our companions, in good and bad fortune,
and to me in my loneliness they had meant so much. How deeply I
reproached myself for not having kept watch. The wolves would not have
come to attack us