"Heavens! my Hansl," cried Wally springing up, and would have run out at the door.
"Stop," cried the priest, "what are you doing? Why risk yourself needlessly? You cannot go out now, when at any moment your father's people may come to take you!"
"I'll not leave my Hansl in the lurch, come what may," cried Wally, and with one spring she stood outside the house.
The curé followed her, shaking his head. "The vulture is tame," she cried to the people. "He belongs to me; leave him alone."
"One can't leave a creature like that to fly about as it will," said the people, grumbling.
"Has he taken a sheep or a child?" asked Wally defiantly.
"No."
"Well, then, leave me and my bird unmolested!" said the girl; and she stood there with an air so proud and threatening that the people looked at her with astonishment. "Wally, Wally," gently warned the priest, "think of the hard wood."
"I do think, your reverence!" she said, and beckoned with her hand to the vulture. "Hansl, come back." The bird shot down from the roof, so that the people all shrank back frightened. She took him on her shoulder, and stepped up to the priest. "God keep your reverence," she said gently, "and thank you for all your kindness."
"Will you not come in and finish breakfast?" said the old man.