Part 2 (2/2)

When the young farmer beheld the great hulk of the black bear lying motionless at the foot of the beech, and saw his child lying unharmed in the snow, his eye, that had been so keen at the moment of peril, grew dim and his senses swam, like one upon a high pinnacle, about to fall.

But it was only for a second. His strong nerves soon restored him, and he stooped and picked up the baby, although he was so blinded with glad tears that he had to grope for the precious bundle.

What a miracle it was, he thought; only the watchful care of a special Providence could have steadied his hand for that desperate shot. The more he considered, the more miraculous it seemed, and with a heart welling up with praise and grat.i.tude, he silently thanked G.o.d for the deliverance, then woke the leafless forest with a glad, ”Halloo.”

This was intended for the old hound, and she at once responded with a quick succession of joyous barks.

The man had been a little uncertain of the direction home, as he had followed the trail feverishly, but the dog's greeting at once set him right. s.h.i.+elding the baby in his arms, and picking out as good footing as he could in the uncertain light, he made all haste back to his faithful canine, whose whines and barks guided him from time to time.

”It's all right, Hecla, old girl, I've got him,” he cried as soon as he came within speaking distance of the dog. The father's joy was so great that he had to impart it to some one.

He lost no time in untying the dog and with her as a guide they were able to follow the homeward trail through the darkest places in safety.

He must make all possible haste, for he remembered the look of mute agony in his wife's eyes, as she stood at the door watching his departure.

”Home, home, Hecla!” he cried, each time they plunged into deeper gloom than usual. ”We must hurry.”

But the good dog needed no urging. Out and in, unerringly, she led him, until the open pasture lot was reached.

Then with a glad bark she bounded over the stone wall and started across the fields at a pace that her master could not keep.He did not call her back, for he felt sure that she could impart the glad news to her mistress before his coming, and anything to relieve the suspense at home was desirable.

While the two had been floundering through the deep woods upon their seemingly hopeless quest, the grief-stricken mother had paced the kitchen floor, wringing her hands and moaning. Occasionally, as the moments dragged slowly by, she would go to the piazza and listen until it seemed that her ear-drums would burst with the intensity of her effort, but only the moaning of the wind, and the usual night sounds came to her ears.

At last, in one of these anxious periods of listening, she thought she detected the barking of old Hecla, but was not certain. Perhaps it was only the wind playing pranks upon her overwrought nerves, or the hooting of an owl.

She waited expectantly and a few seconds later, hearing the old hound's glad bark as she bounded over the wall between the pasture and the mowing, knew that John had sent her with a message for the mistress of Clover-hill Farm. There was something in the dog's bark that put hope into her heart, and she ran to meet her.

”Hecla, Hecla, old friend, what is it?” cried the mother, as the faithful canine, panting from the hard run, capered breathlessly about her mistress, wagging her tail and quivering with excitement.

”Can't you tell me, Hecla? Is my baby safe?”

For answer the dog gave several glad barks, and barking and capering, plainly invited her mistress to follow her and see that she brought good news.

The mother, whose arms seemed so empty, was only too glad to do this.

It had only been because of her husband's stern command and for fear that her presence might defeat the enterprise, that she had stayed at home at all.

With the trained sight of a woodsman, John saw them coming long before his wife saw him, and he hallooed to them at the top of his voice.

”It's all right, mother,” he cried, ”I've got little John.”

A few seconds later he placed the baby in its mother's arms and sank down in the snow exhausted from his long, hard run.

When he had recovered his breath and had gasped out a few words of explanation, all hurried back to the farmhouse, the old dog leading the way.

In half an hour's time the cozy kitchen was righted. The door had been rehung and the accustomed warmth and good cheer had returned to the room, where the kettle hummed and the clock ticked just as though nothing had happened.

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