“It was his first lesson,” he said quietly. “Now, there is a clump of rocks between those two patches of pines, and water and wood in abundance. Will you have the fire there?”
Half an hour after they were all seated round a crackling fire, well sheltered on all sides, and with the rock projecting far over their heads in case of rain. The kettle was singing, the coffee ready, the rest of the provisions spread, and the mule cropping the grass close by, never once trying to leave the vicinity of his human companions.
An hour after the fire was out the stars shone brilliantly, and the little party slept beneath their rugs on a couch of pine boughs as soundly as in the most luxurious couch that had fallen to their lot.
Chapter Twelve.
First Mountain Climb.
The loud crack of something breaking awoke Saxe to the knowledge that a grey light was peering through the pines, and that, though he was comfortably warm, there was a crisp coldness in the air he breathed.
Then there was another sharp crack, and another, as of sticks being broken; and he raised himself up to begin looking cautiously round. For Melchior had said that there were bears about still in the mountains, and the first idea that occurred to him was that a savage beast was breaking his way through the thick pine-wood with inimical intent.
Another crack and another, very close at hand, and then a faint sighing sound—evidently the expiration of some living creature’s breath.