in our cabin; they would have stayed in the distance,
frightened by the fire.

If only Vitalis would have scolded me! I wished that he would beat me.
But he said nothing. He did not even look at me. He sat with his head
bent over the fire; probably wondering what would become of us without
the dogs.

CHAPTER XIV

THE DEATH OF PRETTY-HEART

The sun came out brightly. Its rays fell on the white snow, and the
forest, which the night before had looked so bleak and livid, was now
dazzling with a radiancy that blinded the eyes. Several times Vitalis
passed his hand under the coverlet to feel Pretty-Heart, but the poor
little monkey did not get warmer, and when I bent over him I could hear
him shivering and shaking. The blood in his veins was frozen.

"We must get to a village or Pretty-Heart will die," said Vitalis. "Let
us start at once."

His wrappings were well heated and the little creature was rolled in
them. My master placed him under his vest, next his heart. We were
ready.

"This was a shelter," said Vitalis, looking round the hut as we were
going out, "that has made us pay dearly for its hospitality." His voice
trembled.

He went out first, and I followed in his footsteps. When we had gone a
few yards we had to call to Capi. Poor dog, he had remained standing
outside the hut, his nose turned to the spot where his companions had
been taken by the wolves.

Ten minutes later we reached the main road. We passed a cart; the
driver told us that within an hour we should reach a village. This was
encouraging, yet it was difficult, even painful, to walk. The snow came
up to my waist. Many times I asked Vitalis after Pretty-Heart. Each time
he told me that he was still shivering. At last we saw the white roofs
of a fair sized village. We were not in the habit of putting up at the
better class inns. We always chose a poor place, where we were sure we
should not be driven away, and where they would not take all we had.

But this time Vitalis went into an inn where a beautiful sign hung
outside the kitchen door. The door was open and we could see the great
stove covered with shining copper saucepans, from which the steam was
rising. Ah, how good that soup smelled to the famished wanderers!

My master, putting on his most "gentlemanly" airs, and with his hat on
his head and his head thrown back, asked the landlady for a good bed and
a fire. At first the landlady, who was a fine looking woman, had not
condesc