e pasture land, and, not far from the road, on a grassy slope, the
Brothers saw the red glow of an almost spent shepherds' fire. "Let us
stop and visit our brothers, the shepherds," said Francis, and they
turned toward the fading fire.

There was no sense of winter in the air, scarcely a touch of frost, and
the only snow was that on the silver peaks against the sky. The shepherds,
three men and one boy, lay sleeping soundly on the bare ground, with their
sheepskin coats drawn closely around them. All about them the sheep were
sleeping, too, but the solemn white sheep dogs were wide awake. If a
stranger's foot had trod the grass never so softly, every dog would have
barked, and every shepherd would have been on his feet in an instant. But
the dogs trotted silently up to the Grey Brothers and rubbed against them,
as if they said, "We are glad to see you again," for they knew the
friendly feet of the Little Poor Man, and they had more than once helped
him to eat the bread that was his only dinner. Followed by the dogs,
Francis walked about among the shepherds, but they slept on, as only men
who live out of doors can sleep, and Francis could not find it in his
heart to waken them. The sheep lay huddled together in groups for more
warmth. Around one small square of grass a net was stretched, and, inside
it, were the mother sheep who had little lambs. There was no sound except
the faint cry, now and then, of a baby lamb. The coals over which the
shepherds had cooked their supper paled from dull red to grey, and there
was only a thin column of smoke, white in the moonlight. Francis sat down
on a stone, and the largest of the white dogs pressed up against his knee.
Another went dutifully back to his post beside the fold where the mothers
and babies slept. The Italian hillside seemed to Francis to change to that
of Bethlehem, which he had seen, perhaps, on his Eastern journey; the
clear December night seemed like that of the first Christmas Eve. "How
these shepherds sleep!" he thought; "how they would awaken if they heard
the 'Peace on earth' of the angels' song!" Then he remembered sadly how
the armies that called themselves Christian had, year after year, battled
with the Saracens over the cradle and the tomb of the Prince of Peace. The
moonlight grew misty about him, the silver heights of the mountains and
the silver line of the river faded, for the eyes of Brother Francis were
full of tears.

As the two Brothers went on thei