Alice called again; no answer, but a wild gust of wind and snow that drove past.
"I can't go on and leave him," said Alice; "he might perish in the storm." And she began to walk slowly back, calling at intervals, "Pussy! kitty! pussy!" and listening for an answer that came not. Ellen was very unwilling to tarry, and nowise inclined to prolong their journey by going backwards. She thought the storm grew darker and wilder every moment.
"Perhaps Captain staid up at Mrs. Vawse's," she said, "and didn't follow us down."
"No," said Alice; "I am sure he did. Hark! wasn't that he?"
"I don't hear anything," said Ellen, after a pause of anxious listening.
Alice went a few steps further.
"I hear him!" she said; "I hear him! poor kitty!" and she set off at a quick pace up the hill. Ellen followed, but presently a burst of wind and snow brought them both to a stand. Alice faltered a little at this, in doubt whether to go up or down; but then, to their great joy, Captain's far-off cry was heard, and both Alice and Ellen strained their voices to cheer and direct him. In a few minutes he came in sight, trotting hurriedly along through the snow, and on reaching his mistress he sat down immediately on the ground, without offering any caress a sure sign that he was tired. Alice stooped down and took him up in her arms.
"Poor kitty!" she said, "you've done your part for to-day, I think; I'll do the rest. Ellen, dear, it's of no use to tire ourselves out at once; we will go moderately. Keep hold of my cloak, my child; it takes both of my arms to hold this big cat. Now, never mind the snow; we can bear being blown about a little; are you very tired?"
"No," said Ellen, "not very; I am a little tired; but I don't care for that, if we can only get home safe."
"There's no difficulty about that, I hope. Nay, there may be some difficulty, but we shall get there, I think, in good safety after a while. I wish we were there now, for your sake, my child."