have had too much sense to let them go there. So he crossed the
road and began to climb Martinswand.

With the instinct of the born mountaineer, he had brought out
his crampons with him, and had now fastened them on his feet; he
knew every part and ridge of the mountains, and had more than
once climbed over to that very spot where Kaiser Max had hung in
peril of his life.

On second thoughts he bade Waldmar go back to the house. The
dog was a clever mountaineer, too, but Findelkind did not wish to
lead him into danger. "I have done the wrong, and I will bear the
brunt," he said to himself; for he felt as if he had killed
Katte's children, and the weight of the sin was like lead on his
heart, and he would not kill good Waldmar, too.

His little lantern did not show much light, and as he went
higher upwards he lost sight of the moon. The cold was nothing to
him, because the clear still air was that in which he had been
reared; and the darkness he did not mind, because he was used to
that also; but the weight of sorrow upon him he scarcely knew how
to bear, and how to find two tiny lambs in this vast waste of
silence and shadow would have puzzled and wearied older minds
than his. Garibaldi and all his household, old soldiers tried and
true, sought all night once upon Caprera in such a quest, in
vain.

If he could only have awakened his brother Stefan to ask him
which way they had gone! but then, to be sure, he remembered,
Stefan must have told that to all those who had been looking for