n with her pudgy arms around the neck of Black Bart.

"Bart! Dear old Bart! Has he come? Has he come?"

And she strained her eyes against the familiar mountains around her as
if she would force her vision through rock. There was no trace of Dan,
no sign or sound when she would even have welcomed the eerie whistle.
The wolf-dog was already at play with Joan. She was on his back and he
darted off in an effortless gallop, winding to and fro among the rocks.
Most children would have toppled among the stones at the first of his
swerves, but Joan clung like a burr, both hands dug into his hair,
shrieking with excitement. Sometimes she reeled and almost slid at one
of those lightning turns, for the game was to almost unseat her, but
just as she was sliding off Bart would slacken his pace and let her find
a firm seat once more. They wound farther and farther away, and suddenly
Kate cried, terror-stricken: "Joan! Come back!"

A tug at the ear of the wolf-dog swung them around; then as they
approached, the fear left the mind of the mother and a new thought came
in its place. She coaxed Joan from Bart--they could play later on, she
promised, to their heart's desire--and led her into the house. Black
Bart followed to the door, but not all their entreaty or scolding could
make him cross the threshold. He merely snarled at Kate, and even Joan's
tugging at his ears could not budge him. He stood canting his head and
watching them wistfully while Kate changed Joan's clothes.

She dressed her as if for a festival, with a blue bonnet that let the
yellow hair curl out from the edges, and a little blue cloak, and shiny
boots incredibly small, and around the bonnet she laid a wreath
of yellow wild flowers. Then she wrote her letter, closed it in an
envelope, and fastened it securely in the pocket of the cloak.

She drew Joan in front of her and held her by both hands.

"Joan, darling," she said, "munner wants you to go with Bart up through
the mountains. Will you be afraid?"

A very decided shake of the head answered her, for Joan's eyes were
already over her shoulder looking towards the big dog. And she was a
little sullen at these unnecessary words.

"It might grow dark," she said. "You wouldn't care?"

Here Joan became a little dubious, but a whine from Bart seemed to
reassure her.

"Bart will keep Joan," she said.

"He will. And he'll take you up through the rocks to Daddy Dan."

The face of the child grew brilliant.

"Dad