Squib and His Friends

uib than ever,” lau

too good company

,” added Mr. Lorimer. “I always told you, Rutland, that that boy had

catching sight of the boy. “Come along, we’re just sta

you going?”

ere. It’s about five miles off they

id Squib, with a little twinkle in his ey

m and made no 205answer, the smile b

nna to Prague.’ Then the young man put his hands together and said, ‘Excellency, I can tell you exactly the distance from Prague to Vienna, because I have ridden it; but I have never been from Vienna to Prague yet, so I cannot tell you how far it is.’ Then everybody began to laugh, and the lady said,

llow,” remarked Un

who was attending them 206came up and asked him a riddle, and said, ‘Who is it?—my father’s son, but not my brother?’ And he couldn’t guess, so by-and-by the waiter smacked his chest and said, ‘Why, myself of course,’ and then everybody roared with laughter, so that the young officer thought it must be very funny. Just a few

tory, and at Squib’s way of telling it,

stories? He must have had a wonderful memory,

dn’t seen him yourself,” answered Squib with enthusiasm. “Mother understands a littl

expeditions, many of them very interesting ones, helped Squib over 207the blank which Herr Adler’s departure had made in his present life. It was Herr Adler’s stories that he quoted to the wa

re visitors arrived from England to keep company with the ladies; and Squib found himself once more free to resume his old h

d light up with pleasure

oat-herd with patient sadness. “I know I oughtn’t to say ‘everything,’ when there’s so much left. I did try to t

. But what will you do in the winter, Seppi, when I’ve gone right away to England, and Herr A

ssage; that he was here just for a few short weeks, and then would go away, perhaps never to return. He had built up a fanciful idea of his own that the grand people from England, of whom the peasants spoke with reverence and respect, had bought the chalet for their very own, and would often come to it; and Squib had spoken so much of his love for

ay, are you?” he faltered; “a

ng again. You see I shall be going to school soon, and then there will only be the holidays—and 209those, I suppose, will be spent at home. When I’m a man, I think I shall often come to Switzerland

he liked, but a little English boy, bound by many rules and regulations, and with a regular round of duties mapped out for him for many years to come. His visions of constantly seeing the little Herr on the hills in

he isn’t grown up, though he has been talking of it and waiting—oh, ever so long! What sh

e went on in his vehement fashion, “and I’ll send you an envelope with one of your Swiss stamps on it, if I can get them, and you shall send me a drawing back, and if you can, you will write me a letter too, and tell me how you a

the days flew by they made more and more detailed plans about keeping up some sort of a correspondence, and both

d left him in the afternoon, and he was too lame to wander about for pleasure. Moreover, there were the goats to think of and

himself there in case Seppi’s mother might not like it. Yet he had a great wish to see her, 211and Ann-Kath

doing so, a sudden visit was paid by him

ther in the shelter of the rock and nibble a little bit of grass in quite a lazy way. The dogs seemed to enjoy the sultry weather most, lying side by side in the sun and basking the

but it had never come near them. Seppi had told Squib many stories of the violence of the summer thunder-storm

ed in his life, and wondered if India could be hotter. He and Seppi had to get under the great

other, and Squib felt that if any persons had been climbing their shining white sides, he would have been able to watch their movements. There was a great silence over the wo

m by-and-by. We must watch for it.

storm,” said Squib; but Sepp

ather dreadful. Mother did not much like me to

stayed away. But if you would

will move. But it is too hot now. I think Moor

unted for by the great heat. 213They kept out of the sun’s rays to-day,

any great appetite, they must have dozed off to sleep, for they were brought to a consciousness of their surroundings by the uneas

d and shone as brightly as ever; but behind them had come up a great mass of purple-black

his feet with a l

me! come to my home. You will never get to yours. And you must not go through the w

familiar calls they knew so well, and Squib h

can’t miss the way—straight down the path and across the

held him tigh

way home. Come along,” and as Moor came up to his little master to help him, the party was soon on its w

—bang

, knew it must be dangerously near. Seppi knew it by experience, and gripped his comrade tighter by the arm. The air about them grew suddenly dark and stif

right on us. Ask God to keep us saf

quib’s heart a sense of personal peril which he had ne

ed in a low voice; and Seppi

. Oh, I ought not to have slept! I promised mother not to get into danger. Li

ad, as it seemed, came that terrible crackling and crashing and roaring, echoed back from the mountains till the sound seemed more than human ears could bear. Squib involuntar

looking out of a strange halo, a

err! your d

, upright, motionless, in a strange posture. And even as the boy looked, wondering at Seppi’s cry, th

, making a quick step for

was all round him for a moment, and the ground seemed to shake. Didn’t you feel it? He was dead in a moment. I know how lightning kil

b could see for himself that no spark of life was left in him, and did not seek to linger—down towards the bridge, casting apprehensive glances behind him as he did so, towards the huge bank of lurid cloud. But the next minute—foll

soon be on us; and we must get a

—and reached the bridge before any fresh development had taken place. But as they set their feet upon it the heavy cloud suddenly seemed to open its mouth i

uib thought, when the great breakers come tumbling over you. He was by this time so blinded and bewildered by the terrific violence of the storm that he felt as if it were all part of a confused dream; and when he was

ople in the place besides himself and Seppi—a woman with eyes like Seppi’s, dressed as all the Swiss peasants are, and with a kind, motherly face, who was taking off his 218wet jacket and calling out to somebody else to bring clothes from the press for the little gentleman; a little girl with her hair tight

ments, perched on a rough chair by the side of the stove, while his own clothes were spread out in the heat to dry, the motherly woman

,” said Squib, speaki

er her face and c

she said; “I know all about y

rossed Sq

in a low voice; “the light

was full of vivid

of him, and 219I love him. Oh, these cruel, cruel storms! They kill so many every

look coming over his face, “we we

of awed gratitude and thankfulness for his own escape must keep back his sorrow for the poor dumb animal. He was quite old enough and quite imaginative enough to realize th

r will dig him a grave. We will have a beautiful funeral. Sep

out and from that day forward the little boy often foun

with the goats. They fed nearer home with Moor and Ann-Katherin to tend them, and the others worked about the place, and Seppi did what he could, and carved a headstone (of wood) for Czar during his leisure moments.

d to his mother when displaying his treasure; “I want us t