IN THE NICK OF TIME.
Snow! snow! snow! in flakes and flurries it fell from the skies to
the earth as though there were no end to it. Not until ten o'clock of
the following morning did the soft avalanche cease, and by that time
so much had fallen that Abel was lifted on to the roof of the van to
sweep away the snowy coverlet which had become threatening through its
weight, while Cæsar shook off the snow that seemed to be trying to hide
the canvas which sheltered Steady.
He gave the old horse the remainder of the hay, and went back inside
the van to consult with Nadine as to what had best be done. Nalla
appeared to be still suffering, but able to stand upon his great legs.
The three children stood at the door of the van and gazed eagerly
over the wide white plain, and then up at the sky. The latter looked
decidedly unpromising. There was no hint of a change for the better in
the weather.
"Well, we certainly can't stay here!" exclaimed Cæsar in a tone of
decision. "We must find some way of getting out of this fix, or we
shall all die."
"But how, my dear brother?" asked Nadine despondently.
"I'll do what I said at first," responded Cæsar. "I'll set out alone
for Mamezan. I'll then hire a man and a horse to help us and I'll
procure some food."
"It seems the only thing to do," said Nadine with an anxious sigh.
"You'd better go, dear, but oh! be very careful!"
They had their breakfast, and Nadine after an examination of their
larder, announced that there was sufficient food left to do Abel and
her until night if Cæsar did not get back sooner. So tying a big
handkerchief over his hat that it might protect his face as much as
possible, buttoning up his coat tightly, and taking a short stick, he
embraced Nadine and Abel, and was ready to start.
But in which direction was he to go? They all three scanned the
trackless plain to try and discern some sign of a road. It was as
white, as smooth, as virgin as if no foot of man or beast ever
crossed it.
Then to Nadine's bright brain came a wise thought.
"When we left Parentes was not Mamezan in the west where the sun sets,
Cæsar?"
"Yes--it was," responded Cæsar, "but there's no sun to be seen now, so
we can't tell anything by that."
"True enough," returned Nadine, her pretty face bright with
intelligence; "but you know that Nalla every morning turns his head to
the rising sun. Last night our old friend as usual wanted to be ready
to see the dawn of the day, and he turned towards the east. You should
therefore go in the opposite direction in which to find Mamezan."
Cæsar's countenance lost its puzzled look, and was brightened by a
smile of comprehension.
"You clever girl!" he cried. "You are right, of course, as you always
are. I never saw the like of you for thinking of things. And Nalla,
dear old Nalla, has come to our help again. Oh, what a treasure he is!"
With his mind thus settled Cæsar once more bade the others good-bye,
and started off, trudging manfully through the deep snow which made the
walking hard work for his young legs.
"Good-bye, my brother!" Nadine called after him. "A safe journey to
Mamezan, and a quick return to deliver us from this dreadful place."
Fighting his way through the deep snow which made every step a task of
difficulty Cæsar plodded due west, making frequent halts to get his
breath, and to glance back at the van, which stood out so prominently,
the only dark spot in that wilderness of white.
He had not gone very far before he found that Vigilant was following
him, although he had not invited him to do so.
"You good dog!" he cried, well pleased at having such a companion, and
stooping down to pat him vigorously. "You're not afraid to accompany
your master instead of staying snugly in the van. I'm so glad to have
you with me."
When Cæsar spoke thus he little guessed what a fortunate thing the
dog's devotion was to prove.
Vigilant responded with a volley of barks that confirmed his intention
to stick to his master, but had also a plaintive tone as though he
would imply that, for himself, he would have deemed it much wiser to
remain in the shelter of the van.
When they had been walking for about two hours Vigilant lay down and
held up his paws in a significant way, at the same time barking
piteously.
"Why, what is the matter, Vigilant?" asked Cæsar with concern. "Are
your feet hurting you?"
As the animal continued his appeals Cæsar picked him up, and examined
his paws. The poor little things were extremely sore from contact with
the hard frozen snow and not fit to be walked upon.
"Heigh-ho!" exclaimed Cæsar. "There's nothing for it but to carry you,"
and gathering the dog in his arms he renewed his toilsome tramp thus
burdened.
But he was suffering in no small measure himself. The cruel cold
attacked his face, his hands and his feet mercilessly, and to make
matters worse, his boots, which were in sore need of repairs, failed to
keep out the snow with which they were now filled. Every step was pain.
But he struggled on heroically, carrying the heavy dog.
About three in the afternoon his eyes were gladdened by the sight of a
column of smoke rising to the sky a long way off.
"Bravo!" he cried, "I'm in the right direction. I will reach a house
soon," and encouraged by this prospect, he pushed ahead with renewed
vigor, although his strength was fast failing, and the walking grew no
easier.
That smoke meant Mamezan without doubt, and Mamezan meant relief for
them all. He must get there before night.
For another half-hour he plowed laboriously through the drifts, and by
the end of that time the roofs of Mamezan hove into sight through the
fading light of the day already drawing to a close.
But alas! with the haven getting so near he began to feel that he
should not be able to reach it. His whole system was on the verge of
complete collapse. Agonizing pains shot through his body like stabs
from red-hot needles. Then a roaring filled his ears. He became
blind and dizzy, and, at last, succumbing to his sufferings, he fell
unconscious upon the snow!
Vigilant, standing by his master, howled dismally. His paws having
got warm while Cæsar carried him in his arms, he was able to use them
again, and he ran hither and thither barking frantically, while Cæsar
with pallid hands and face lay motionless.
Seeing that his young master made no response to his appeals Vigilant
lifted his head, and looked about him in every direction. Then, after
a moment's pause he set off at full speed in the direction of Mamezan.
It was now night--a cold dark December night. Vigilant kept on at a
good pace until suddenly he stopped, and turned about. He heard the
sound of a bell, and saw a good way off the gleam of a light that was
not still, but was moving towards him, while the tinkling of the bell
grew clearer.
With a joyous bark that meant as plainly as words:
"Hurrah! there's some one who will help us," Vigilant scampered over
the snow in the direction of the light.
It was borne by the rider of an old and tired horse, and this rider was
the old curé of Mamezan, Père Blandinière, who was returning to the
town after having dispensed extreme unction to a dying member of his
congregation. From time to time he chirruped to his steed, which seemed
almost exhausted.
The good man was greatly surprised at the sudden appearance of
Vigilant, whose sharp barks demanded prompt attention, and he turned
the rays of the lantern upon the faithful creature.
"Why, bless me!" he exclaimed, bringing his horse to a halt, which was
only too easily done. "What's the meaning of a dog like this being away
out here alone at such an hour of the night?"
For he saw at once that it was no common farmer's dog, but a poodle of
high breeding that was barking so insistently at his horse's feet.
So soon as Vigilant saw that he had attracted the curé's attention he
sat up on his hind legs, and begged for help in a way that could not be
misunderstood.
Then, dropping on all fours, he darted off in the direction where Cæsar
was, and as quickly returned to resume his entreaties. The wise old man
at once grasped the situation.
"I understand you, you clever animal!" he said in a tone of great
kindliness. "Your master has succumbed to the cold, and you want me to
help him. Lead me to him then, I will follow at once, and the good God
grant I may be in time!"
Vigilant, the moment he saw his meaning was understood, gave a volley
of joyous barks, and rushed off towards where he had left Cæsar, coming
back every few yards to make sure that the curé was following, for in
his impatience he went much faster than the wearied old horse.
A little later the curé was bending over the motionless form of Cæsar.
"Poor boy!" he murmured with deep sympathy. "He still breathes, but he
would assuredly have died but for this wonderfully intelligent animal."
He at once set to work chafing Cæsar's hands and cheeks, and,
presently, wrapping him in his own cloak, lifted him up on to the
saddle, holding him there while he himself walked beside the horse,
then, followed by Vigilant, who marched along with head and tail erect
in proud satisfaction at having brought rescue to his beloved master,
they in due time reached the presbytery.
The curé had the still unconscious boy put into a warm bed, where
before long he recovered his senses, and opened his eyes.
He looked about the bright cosy room with wondering inquiry, and caught
the eye of the kind priest, who was sitting near him conning his
breviary and repeating the familiar words to himself as the movement of
his lips showed.
"Ah! ha!" exclaimed Père Blandinière in a tone of satisfaction as he
rose from his seat, and approached the bed. "You have come back to
life, eh? I felt sure you would. You are too sturdy a lad to let the
cold put an end like that to you. And how are you feeling now?"
Cæsar felt so languid, and at the same time so entirely comfortable
in the soft warm bed that his inclination was to lie still and say
nothing. But he was too courteous a boy to do that, and, moreover, as
soon as his senses returned, he began to think about the others, Nadine
and Abel, who were so anxiously awaiting his return.
Instinctively he tried to get up, but the curé gently pressed him back
into the bed.
"No--no--my son," he said, kindly yet firmly. "Just stay where you are
for the present. But if you feel strong enough pray tell me your story."
"But Nadine, and Abel, and Nalla," cried Cæsar. "They must be saved,"
and his big dark eyes glowed with intense earnestness as he clasped his
hands like one in prayer.
"And they shall be saved, my son," responded the curé soothingly.
"Never fear, they shall be saved. Tell me all about them."
Relieved by this assurance Cæsar, now fully master of himself,
made haste to tell the story of the van and how it was lost in the
wilderness of snow.