Suddenly, to his great amaze, a huge tawny head appeared above the
rocky edge of the plateau, and in another moment a St. Bernard hound
clambered up the steep bank and ran towards the cave. He was dripping
wet, and carried, strapped across his broad back, a double pannier,
the contents of which proved on inspection to consist of three
flasks of goat's milk, and some half dozen rye loaves packed in a
tin box.

The friendly expression and intelligent demeanour of his visitor
invited little St. Aubyn's confidence and reanimated his sinking
heart. Delighted at such evidence of human proximity, and eager
for food, he drank of the goat's milk and ate part of the bread,
afterwards emptying his pockets of the few sous he possessed and
enclosing them with the remaining loaves in the tin case, hoping
that the sight of the coins would inform the dog's owners of the
incident. The creature went as he came, plunging into the deepest
and least boisterous part of the torrent, which he crossed by swimming,
regained the opposite shore, and soon disappeared from view.

But next day, at about the same hour, the dog reappeared alone,
again bringing milk and bread, of which again the lad partook, this
time, however, having no sous to deposit in the basket. And when,
as on the previous day, his new friend rose to depart, Charlie
St. Aubyn left the cave with him, clambered down the bank with
difficulty, and essayed to cross the torrent ford. But the depth
and rapidity of the current dismayed him, and with sinking heart
the child returned to his abode. Every day the same thing happened,
and at length the strange life became familiar to him, the trees,
the birds, and the flowers became his friends, and the great hound