long, narrow valley shut in by high cliffs, past waterfalls fed
by mountain snows, and losing itself at last where a tiny white
steeple marked the little village which was the home of the old
herdsman. The old man pointed to it. "Follow the path and
remember Peter of Lucerne," he said. "This is your chance! Trust
the good God, do not be afraid, and soon your troubles will be
over and you will be once more in your mother's arms." He stood
on a rock and watched the little procession until a bend in the
path hid it from sight, then he went back to his lonely pasture.

For an hour or so, the children trudged quite cheerfully on their
way. "This isn't hard at all," said Seppi. "The pass is easier to
follow than our own. How silly we were to be scared!"

They were so used to climbing about in perilous places that when
a little later the path led them along a shelf-like projection on
the side of steep cliffs, overhanging a mountain stream, they
were not frightened. But when they began to grow tired, and the
trail led them into a dark forest, where the sun came through the
thick boughs and shone only in patches of light upon the slippery
spruce needles, they grew less courageous.

"I don't like the forest," said Leneli, shivering a little and
looking behind her. "It always seems as if things would happen to
you in the woods."

"What kind of things?" said Seppi, who was beginning to feel a
bit shaky himself.

"Why--you know," answered Leneli, "the kind of things that giants