end with animosity. Quite plainly he regarded the sandals as his
responsibility. With glaring eyes and gleaming teeth he crouched,
prepared to defend them.

The young Frenchman's discomfiture was but momentary. In an instant he
had taken in the situation and the humour of it.

"But it is the good Cinders!" he said aloud, and extended a fearless
hand. "So, my friend, so! The little mistress waits."

Cinders' growl became a snarl. He sucked up his breath in furious
protest, threatening murder. But the stranger's hand was not withdrawn.
On the contrary it advanced upon him with the utmost deliberation till
Cinders was compelled to jerk backwards to avoid it.

So jerking, he missed his footing as his mistress had before him, lost
his balance, and rolled, cursing, clinging, and clambering, over the edge
of the rock.

Had the Frenchman laughed at that moment he would have made an enemy for
life. But most fortunately he did not regard an antagonist's downfall as
a fit subject for mirth. In fact, being of a chivalrous turn, he grabbed
at the luckless Cinders, clutched his collar, and dragged him up again.
And--perhaps it was the generosity of the action, perhaps only its
obvious fearlessness--he won Cinders' heart from that instant. His
hostility merged into sudden ardent friendship. He set his paws on the
young man's chest, and licked his face.

Thenceforth he was more than welcome to sandals and towel and even the
effusive Cinders himself, who leaped around him barking in high delight,