“Barty!” she called. “Franzelie!” But no answer came. Fear gave her strength. She ran out of the house, then to the goats; no one was there.

 

The noise of the brook⁴ came up in[26] the stillness and gave a new terror. She folded her hands and prayed to the Heavenly Father for help. Then she ran down the path. There was a crowd of strange-looking men climbing up the steep singing rollicking songs, and some one pointed⁵ with his alpenstock to their little home.

 

“God in Heaven,” she cried, “what can have happened?”

 

“Mother! Mother!” cried Barty’s clear voice. “We are all coming. The gentlemen are with us. You can’t think what they’re bringing, and Franzelie is in a chaise with a horse!”

 

Barty hurried up the path and was met by his mother with warm embraces and sincere thanks to the dear God who had safely led him back to her.

 

[27]

 

Barty breathlessly told his story, and by this time she was surrounded by the strange young men who addressed her as if she were an old friend.

 

And there were more climbing up the steep way. Two carried, on the alpenstocks resting on their shoulders, a huge basket, and after them came a gentleman leading Franzelie, and the shy child was talking to him as if he were a lifelong friend.

 

When the mother had warmly thanked him for his kindness, he said, “The children told me you were sick, so I have brought you a doctor. Here, Dr. Barbarossa, give good counsel.”

 

The tall man bowed low as he went through the door to the little cottage; he sat down beside the mother and she[28] told about her bad feelings, and how little food she had had. She had felt no pain, only great weakness.

 

“I have brought you some medicine,” he said, taking the

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