selves
appeared through the opening in the woods opposite the house, and
ran in through the sleet, now falling more quietly. They were wet,
but no worse apparently for their adventure, though full of
contrition and distress at having lost sight of the dog. He had
rushed off into the woods some hours before, after a rabbit or
hedgehog, and had never returned. Nor had they seen Fishin' Jimmy.

As hours went by and the old man did not return, a search party was
sent out, and guides familiar with the mountain paths went up
Lafayette to seek for him. It was nearly night when they at last
found him, and the grand old mountains had put on those robes of
royal purple which they sometimes assume at eventide. At the foot
of a mass of rock, which looked like amethyst or wine-red agate in
that marvellous evening light, the old man was lying, and Dash was
with him. From the few faint words Jimmy could then gasp out, the
truth was gathered. He had missed the boys, leaving the path by
which they had returned, and while stumbling along in search of
them, feeble and weary, he had heard far below a sound of distress.
Looking down over a steep, rocky ledge, he had seen his friend and
fishing comrade, old Dash, in sore trouble. Poor Dash! He never
dreamed of harming his old friend, for he had a kind heart. But he
was a sad coward in some matters, and a very baby when frightened
and away from master and friends. So I fear he may have assumed
the role of wounded sufferer when in reality he was but scared and
lonesome. He never owned this afterward, and you may be sure we
never let him know, by word or look, the evil he had done. Jimmy
saw him holding up one paw helplessly, and looking at him with
wistful, imploring brown eyes, heard his pitiful whimpering cry for
aid, and never doubted his great distress and peril. Was Dash not
a fisherman? And fishermen, in Fishin' Jimmy's category, were
always true and trusty. So the old man without a second's
hesitation started down the steep, smooth decline to the rescue of
his friend.

We do not know just how or where in that terrible descent he fell.
To us who afterward saw the spot, and thought of the weak old man,
chilled by the storm, exhausted by his exertions, and yet
clambering down that precipitous cliff, made more slippery and
treacherous by the sleet and hail still falling, it seemed
impossible that he could have kept a foothold for an instant. Nor
am I sure that he expect