d were thick, with
only a small path through, much overgrown, and behind the rock rose like
a wall, overhung with ivy and traveller's joy. Only one who knew the
place could have found the shed among the thicket where the cows were
fastened, far less the cavern half-way up the side of the rock where
lay the treasures for which Steadfast was a watchman. He thought for a
moment of seeing if all were safe, but then decided, like a wise boy,
that to disturb the creepers, and wear a path to the place, was the
worst thing he could do if he wished for concealment. He had had his
supper at the village, and had no more to do, and after the long day
of going to and fro, even Toby was too much tired to worry the rabbits,
though he had had no heavy weights to carry. Perhaps, indeed, the poor
dog had no spirits to interfere with their sports, as they sat upright,
jumped over one another, and flashed their little white tails. He missed
his old master, and knew perfectly well that his young master was in
trouble and distress, as he crept close up to the boy's breast, and
looked up in his face. Stead's hand patted the rough, wiry hair, and
there was a sort of comfort in the creature's love. But how hard it was
to believe that only yesterday he had a father and a home, and that now
his elder brother was gone, and he had the great charge on him of being
the mainstay of the three younger ones, as well as of protecting that
treasure in the cavern which his father had so solemnly entrusted to
him.

The boy knelt down to say his prayers, and as he did so, all alone in
the darkening wood, the words "Father of the fatherless, Helper of the
helpless," came to his aid.

CHAPTER VII. THE HERMIT'S GULLEY.

"O Bessie Bell and Mary Grey,
They were twa bonnie lasses--
They digged a bower on yonder brae,
And theek'd it o'er wi' rashes." BALLAD.

Steadfast slept soundly on the straw with Toby curled up by his side
till the morning light was finding its way in through all the chinks of
his rude little hovel.

When he had gathered his recollections he knew how much there was to be
done. He sprang to his feet, showing himself still his good mother's own
boy by kneeling down to his short prayer, then taking off the clothes in
which he had slept, and giving himself a good bath in the pool under the
bush of wax-berried guelder rose, and as good a wash as he could without
soap.

Then he milked the cows, for happily