top, just at dark, he saw nothing but cliff after cliff, range after
range, all around him. He had been wandering through steep gullies all
day unconsciously, and had penetrated far into the mountains. Night was
coming down, still and crystal-clear, and the poor little lad was far
away from help or hope, going his last long journey alone.

Partly perhaps walking, and partly sitting down and weeping, he got
through the night; and when the solemn morning came up again he was
still tottering along the leading range, bewildered; crying, from time
to time, "Mother, mother!" still nursing his little bear, his only
companion, to his bosom, and holding still in his hand a few poor
flowers he had gathered the day before. Up and on all day, and at
evening, passing out of the great zone of timber, he came on the bald,
thunder-smitten summit ridge, where one ruined tree held up its
skeleton arms against the sunset, and the wind came keen and frosty.
So, with failing, feeble legs, upward still, towards the region of the
granite and the snow; towards the eyrie of the kite and the eagle.

* * * * *

Brisk as they all were at Garoopna, none were so brisk as Cecil and
Sam. Charles Hawker wanted to come with them, but Sam asked him to go
with Jim; and, long before the others were ready, our two had strapped
their blankets to their saddles, and, followed by Sam's dog Rover, now
getting a little grey about the nose, cantered off up the river.

Neither spoke at first. They knew what a solemn task they had before
them; and, while acting as though everything depended on speed, guessed
well that their search was only for a little corpse, which, if they had
luck, they would find stiff and cold under some tree or crag.

Cecil began: "Sam, depend on it that child has crossed the river to
this side. If he had been on the plains he would have been seen from a
distance in a few hours."

"I quite agree," said Sam. "Let us go down this side till we are
opposite the hut, and search for marks by the river side."

So they agreed; and in half an hour were opposite the hut, and, riding
across to it to ask a few questions, found the poor mother sitting on
the door-step, with her apron over her head, rocking herself to and fro.

"We have come to help you, mistress," said Sam. "How do you think he is
gone?"

She said, with frequent bursts of grief, that "some days before he had
mentioned having seen white children across the water, who beckoned