The dog showed his appreciation of her return for him by kissing her lavishly with his rough, red tongue, so lavishly that Gale had to scramble away.
She took the next rock to a point higher and hauled Toto up after her. The dog, after once sticking his nose over the edge and finding the ground quite a distance below him, cowered against the wall, his hair standing on edge.
Gale laughed. “Don’t be nervous, Toto; if you’re good you won’t fall off.”
The dog turned earnest brown eyes to her, his tail wagging faintly.
“You wouldn’t stay on the ground,” she reminded him. “Now you can just wait here for me.”
Gale climbed a little higher, the dog watching her, wanting to follow but afraid to move. The puppy was used to the good firm earth beneath him and was not at all sure that he should even let his friend out of his sight. Gale meantime was slowly finding foothold to reach the summit, the top of Lonesome Man’s head. Once when her foot slipped a shower of loosened rock and bits of ice rattled to the ground below. Gale held her breath and dug her fingers into the niches of the grey rock, holding on for dear life. When her panic subsided she found she was in no immediate danger of falling and could proceed with a maximum of caution.
Lonesome Man hadn’t seemed as high as he really was. When Gale reached the top she sat down and looked over the side. She shut her eyes quickly. It made her dizzy to think that she might have slipped with those pebbles. Of course even then it wouldn’t have been as far a fall as if she should slip now!
She wondered how Toto was but could not see him from her present position.
When her breath was coming naturally and she was feeling a little rested from her climb Gale could stir up enough interest to view her surroundings. Far to her right she could see a brown cottage which at first looked like the Bouchards’. But after a careful scrutiny she decided it wasn’t and turned in the opposite direction. Carefully her eyes wandered over the scene spread out before her. Trees, stripped of their summer splendor, stood revealed black and forlorn. Winter wind swayed their stripped branches. She beheld a moving object which at first she thought was a man, but later decided it was a bear. She shivered. Suppose she had met him in the dark last night!
Finally she saw another house, smoke rising from the chimney. This one stood in the center of a triangular clearing exactly like the Bouchard cottage. It must be home! She was surprised at its nearness. She had been searching the far horizon for it and had at first overlooked the objects nearer at hand. She sighed with relief and was about to climb down in order to waste no time in returning when she stopped, her attention caught by a small group of figures which had suddenly appeared in the clearing. She could not determine the identity of the people from where she was, but nevertheless she watched with interest. Only one she was sure of, François, hobbling with the aid of his crutch. There could be no mistaking him even at a distance.