"I
fear me that the dogs have not yet been exercised, on the paths, this
season!"
"Has it then come to this! Are our lives indeed dependent on the uncertain
sagacity of brutes!"
"Mein Herr, I would bless the Virgin, and her holy Son, if it were so! But
I fear this storm has been so sudden and unexpected, that we may not even
hope for their succor."
Melchior groaned. He folded his child still nearer to his heart, while the
athletic Sigismund shielded his drooping sister, as the fowl shelters its
young beneath the wing.
"Delay is death," rejoined the Signor Grimaldi. "I have heard of muleteers
that have been driven to kill their beasts, that shelter and warmth might
be found in their entrails."
"The alternative is horrible!" interrupted Sigismund. "Is return
impossible? By always descending, we must, in time reach the village
below."
"That time would be fatal," answered Pierre. "I know of only one resource
that remains. If the party will keep together, and answer my shouts I will
make another effort to find the path."
This proposal was gladly accepted, for energy and hope go hand-in-hand,
and the guide was about to quit the group, when he felt the strong grasp
of Sigismund on his arm.
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