"Just across the stream a great, lean shepherd dog came out of the snow tents of firs. His voice was weak, but he howled pitifully, as though calling the men.
"'We must cross the stream!' said they all.
"The men made a bridge by pushing logs and fallen trees across the ice. The dog met them joyfully, and they followed him.
"Under the tents of firs they found Gragstein, ready to perish with cold and hunger.
"'Take me home!' said he. 'I can not last long. Take me home, and call home the dog!'
"'What has happened?' asked the men.
"'I fell in. I called for help, and—the dog came—Faithful. He rescued me, but I was numb. He lay down on me and warmed me, and kept me alive. Faithful! Call home the dog!'
"The men took up the old man and rubbed him, and gave him food. Then they called the dog and gave him food, but he would not eat.
"They returned as fast as they could to the cottage. Frau Gragstein came out to meet them. The dog saw her and stopped and howled, dived into the forest, and disappeared.
"The old man died that night. They buried him in a few days. The old woman was left all alone. The night after the funeral, when she put out the light, she thought that she heard a feeble howl in the still air, and stopped and listened. But she never heard that sound again. The next morning she opened the door and looked out. There, under a bench where his master had often caressed him in the summer evenings of many years, lay the body of old Faithful, dead. He had never ceased to watch the house, and had died true. 'Tis the best thing that we can say of any living creature, man or dog, he was true-hearted.