ght, herr," said the guide. "Bears are very scarce now, and
I do not think one of them could make such a noise unless he were being
killed. This is another mystery of the mountains that I cannot explain.
Some guides would say it was the mountain spirit."

"But you do not, Melchior?"

"No, herr; I believe now that all these old stories ate fables. Shall
we lie down again to rest?"

"I want to rest," said Dale; "but it seems impossible to lie down
expecting to be roused up by such an unearthly cry."

"Then the English herr thinks it was unearthly?"

"Oh, I don't mean that," said Dale hastily. "The mountains are full of
awful things, but not of that kind. Well, Saxe, shall we lie down?"

"What's the good?" replied the boy: "we couldn't go to sleep if we did.
I say, isn't it cold?"

"Get one of the rugs to put round you."

"Shall we have a good look round, first, herr?"

"No, don't," said Saxe. "It is so dark, and there are so many stones
about. Yes, let's go," he added suddenly, as the thought flashed across
his brain that if he declined his companions would think him cowardly.

Just at that moment, from out of the darkness, about fifty yards away,
the cry rose again, but short and sudden, like a bit of the fag end of
the shriek which had roused them from their sleep.

"There!" cried Saxe.

"Yes, herr--there!" said the guide, and he began to laugh silently.
"Why, it quite startled me. I ought to have known."

"What was it?" cried Dale, as the curious wild cry seemed still to be
ringing in his ears.

"What was it, herr? Don't you know?"

"Of course not."

"It was Gros."

"The old mule?" cried Saxe. "Oh, I wish I was close by him with a
stick."

"I suppose he feels the cold. No, stop: it can't be that," added the
guide, as if suddenly struck by an idea. "There must be a reason for
his crying out."

He walked away hurriedly into the darkness, and they followed, to hear
him talking directly after to the mule, which responded with a low
whinnying sound.

"Perhaps the poor brute has slipped into a hole or a crack in the rock,"
suggested Dale; but as they drew nigh they could see the mule standing
out dimly in the darkness, and the guide close by his neck.

"Have we overdriven him?" said Saxe. "Is he ill?"

"You couldn't overdrive Gros, herr," said Melchior quietly.

"Why not?"

"You heard what old Andregg said to us, Gros would not be overdriven,
herr; he would lie down when he had do