One evening, just at sunset, the Major sent for her. "I go to Zürich in
the morning," he said, holding out his hand as she came into the room.
"I wanted to say good-bye while I have the time and strength. We expect
to leave very early to-morrow, probably before you are awake."

His couch was drawn up by the window through which the shimmering lake
shone in the sunset like rosy mother-of-pearl. Far up the mountain
sounded the faint tinkling of goat-bells, and the clear, sweet yodelling
of a peasant, on his homeward way. At intervals, the deep tolling of the
bell of St. Oswald floated out across the water.

"When the snow falls," he said, after a long pause, "I shall be far away
from here. They tell me that at the hospital where I am going, I shall
find a cure. But I know." He pointed to an hour-glass on the table
beside him. "See! the sand has nearly run its course. The hour will soon
be done. It is so with me. I have felt it for a long time."

Lloyd looked up, startled. He went on slowly.

"I cannot take Hero with me to the hospital, so I shall leave him behind
with some one who will care for him and love him, perhaps even better
than I have done." He held out his hand to the dog.

"Come, Hero, my dear old comrade, come bid thy master farewell."
Fumbling under his pillow as he spoke, he took out a small leather case,
and, opening it, held up a medal. It was the medal that had been given
him for bravery on the field of battle.

[Illustration: "HE FASTENED THE MEDAL TO HERO'S COLLAR"]