big round head, and looking just like a cat, but a hundred times
larger than the biggest cat he had ever seen. The animal rose up
with a low sound like a growl, and glared at Martin with its wide,
yellow, fiery eyes, which so terrified him that he dared not move
another step until the womaan, speaking very gently to him, told him
not to fear. She caressed the great beast, making him lie down again;
then coming forward and taking Martin by the hand, she drew him up
to her knees.

[Illustration: ]

"What is your name, poor little suffering child?" she asked, bending
down to him, and speaking softly. "Martin--what's yours?" he returned,
still half sobbing, and rubbing his eyes with his little fists.

"I am called the Lady of the Hills, and I live here alone in the
mountain. Tell me, why do you cry, Martin?"

"Because I'm so cold, and--and my legs hurt so, and--and because I
want to go back to my mother. She's over there," said he, with
another sob, pointing vaguely to the great plain beneath their feet,
extending far, far away into the blue distance, where the crimson
sun was now setting.

"I will be your mother, and you shall live with me here on the
mountain," she said, caressing his little cold hands with hers.
"Will you call me mother?"

"You are _not_ my mother," he returned warmly. "I don't want to call
you mother."