'"Run, Will," I said, "run, Will, for your life, and I'll try to keep Bruin in the tree."
'So I climbed up a bit myself, and the bear growled and was very angry because I wouldn't let him down to get a piece of Will Wisely. But I wouldn't, and so Will got away, and Bruin and I soon found our way home to camp. Oh, I love Bruin! And, Mr Blake, when you go away'——
The child suddenly stopped speaking, and, to Antony's surprise, threw herself on the ground close beside the golden furze there, where the rose-linnets sang, and burst into a fit of sobbing and tears.
CHAPTER XX.
IN THE DARK O' THE NEAP.
NEITHER children nor dogs think much about the future, and it would be wise sometimes if their elders resembled them in this respect, for surely even Lotty's honest and faithful friend Wallace was to be envied in being so perfectly happy and contented, and in believing—if he could be said to possess a belief—that the world for him would have no end, that his little mistress would always be with him, and that it would always be sunshine and spring.
But young folks like Lotty, who have come through the hard, do often wonder to themselves what will become of them in after years. And this gipsy lass had been so happy ever since Frank Antony had arrived in camp that the very thought of his going away and being to her as if he had never come to cheer her and make the days seem all too short, was one which loomed before her like a big dark cloud which ere long must engulf her, and from which her sun of life might never emerge. No wonder, then, that as she thought of this she shed bitter tears that morning on the moor. And what could Antony do but just try to comfort her as best he could? For there was sorrow and sadness even at his own heart. And the birds sang on, and the perfume of spring was all around them; only poor Wallace seemed much concerned and whined pitifully as he licked poor Lotty's hands and ears.
But the child's grief did not last a great while, and soon she was smiling through her tears, after heaving one or two half-heartbroken sighs.
'I'm such a little silly, amn't I?' she said.
Antony raised her from the sitting position and soon they were walking hand in hand across the moor towards Crona's cottage, singing as was their wont—she in her sweet treble, he in his bass—and the dog bounding and barking with joy, half-hysterically one might have said, to see his mistress happy once more.
They were always sure of a hearty and loving welcome at the witch's house. The cat met them to rub head against legs, even Wallace coming in for a share of her affection. Indeed, the great Newfoundland appeared to be a hero with pussy, though no doubt he considered himself somewhat superior to her in intellect. On this occasion she showed her affection for the dog by running off in front and whacking poor Tod Lowrie, who was sound asleep at the sunny side of the cottage door.