"Here, come round and let's look at your head," cried Saxe.

"No; he will not turn till he knows you well," cried the old man; "he's
very bashful, is Gros. You must make friends with him by degrees, and
then he is quite a brother to any one in the mountains."

"But how am I to make friends with him?" cried Saxe.

"Get a piece of bread for the young herr, Melchior Staffeln," said the
old man. "When it comes," he continued, "you may tempt Gros to come to
you; but he is very particular, and may not like you, because you are
foreigners."

The bread was brought. Saxe took it, and held it out to the mule, which
slightly turned its head, gazed at it wistfully, but kept its hind
quarters toward the would-be donor, turning as he turned, in spite of
sundry coaxing words.

"Here, turn round," cried Saxe: "you can't eat with your tail."

"Don't go too close, herr," said the old Swiss; "I don't think he would,
but he might kick."

"And I think it's very probable that he will," said Dale sharply; "that
right hind leg is all of a quiver. Why, the brute's vicious, Melchior!"
he said, in German.

"No, no--not vicious," said the old Swiss; "it's only that he's
frightened and bashful: he isn't used to company, herr. Be patient with
him, and he's a beast that would almost lay down his life for you."

"Looks more like laying down our lives," said Saxe, making a sudden dart
round, as the mule was watching Dale, and then, as the animal turned
sharply, holding out the bread.

Perhaps the wind bore the scent of the piece of loaf to the mule's
nostrils, and the temptation was too great to resist. At any rate it
stretched out its neck and extended its muzzle, so that head and neck
were nearly in a straight line, and uttered a shrill, squealing whinny,
which was answered at once by the donkey with a sonorous trumpeting
bray, as the lesser animal came cantering up with tail and ears cocked.

"Ah! child of the evil one!" shouted old Andregg, "go back to your
pasture;" and stooping down, he picked up a piece of freshly cut
pine-wood, and threw it at the offending animal, missing him, but making
him put his head down between his fore legs, and kick out his hind legs
in defiance, before cantering off again.

By this time the mule was sniffing at the bread, and drawing nearer and
nearer to Saxe's extended hand, consenting finally to take it and begin
to eat.

"Is it not beautiful?" cried old Andregg, smiling. "Behold, you have
mad