Oh, how dreary the woods seemed without the little troop! The wind
sighed in the pines, and the moonlight cast fearful shadows from the
gnarled and knotty boughs.
Florio rose with a sigh and stretched his limbs, wondering if it was
worth while to try and do the fairy's bidding when he had to go back to
hear the dreaded voice of old Fuss. Then he made sure of the birch-bark
case, and again with the aid of the fire-flies found the road. Fuss was
sound asleep still when he laid himself down on his bundle of straw in
the farthest corner of the cavern. One thing he did not notice, and that
was the young fox whose bushy tail he had touched going into the woods.
It had followed him home, and crept in under the straw beside him.
CHAPTER II
High up in the Swiss mountains a storm was brewing. On their
cloud-capped summits nothing could be seen but snow--dazzling, blinding
white snow, and wreaths of vapor which congealed as it fell. All day the
people of the hamlets had been preparing for the visitor, knowing full
well that they should be housed for weeks after its descent, and as
Christmas was approaching, it was needful that much should be done.
As the day grew darker, each hurried to complete his or her work, and
none essayed more eagerly to do this than young Franz, the goatherd; but
try as he would, the heedless, wanton little flock were constantly
escaping from him, and if it had not been for Jan, the great mastiff of
the famous St.
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