At last, in one of these anxious periods of listening, she thought she detected the barking of old Hecla, but was not certain. Perhaps it was only the wind playing pranks upon her overwrought nerves, or the hooting of an owl.
She waited expectantly and a few seconds later, hearing the old hound's glad bark as she bounded over the wall between the pasture and the mowing, knew that John had sent her with a message for the mistress of Clover-hill Farm. There was something in the dog's bark that put hope into her heart, and she ran to meet her.
"Hecla, Hecla, old friend, what is it?" cried the mother, as the faithful canine, panting from the hard run, capered breathlessly about her mistress, wagging her tail and quivering with excitement.
"Can't you tell me, Hecla? Is my baby safe?"
For answer the dog gave several glad barks, and barking and capering, plainly invited her mistress to follow her and see that she brought good news.
The mother, whose arms seemed so empty, was only too glad to do this. It had only been because of her husband's stern command and for fear that her presence might defeat the enterprise, that she had stayed at home at all.
With the trained sight of a woodsman, John saw them coming long before his wife saw him, and he hallooed to them at the top of his voice.
"It's all right, mother," he cried, "I've got little John."
A few seconds later he placed the baby in its mother's arms and sank down in the snow exhausted from his long, hard run.
When he had recovered his breath and had gasped out a few words of explanation, all hurried back to the farmhouse, the old dog leading the way.