The moon was still high.
Above, against the sky, black and awful with clouds floating
over its summit, was the great Martinswand.
Findelkind this time called the big dog Waldmar to him, and,
with the dog beside him, went once more out into the cold and the
gloom, whilst his father and mother, his brothers and sisters,
wore sleeping, and poor childless Katte alone was awake.
He looked up at the mountain and then across the water-swept
meadows to the river. He was in doubt which way to take. Then he
thought that in all likelihood the lambs would have been seen if
they had wandered the river way, and even little Stefan would
have had too much sense to let them go there. So he crossed the
road and began to climb Martinswand.
With the instinct of the born mountaineer, he had brought out
his crampons with him, and had now fastened them on his feet; he
knew every part and ridge of the mountains, and had more than
once climbed over to that very spot where Kaiser Max had hung in
peril of his life.
On second thoughts he bade Waldmar go back to the house. The
dog was a clever mountaineer, too, but Findelkind did not wish to
lead him into danger. "I have done the wrong, and I will bear the
brunt," he said to himself; for he felt as if he had killed
Katte's children, and the weight of the sin was like lead on his
heart, and he would not kill good Waldmar, too.
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