Several days later Eric could have been seen advancing over the frozen ground holding a small child's hand safely clasped in his own. He had wandered and wandered, climbing always higher, never giving way, no matter how overpowering his fatigue. For ever ringing in his ears was the sound of the solitary man's voice begging that he should not disappoint him by turning back, urging him to have courage to go always forward till he had climbed the highest peak!--not to be afraid, because he believed Eric to be of those who win. Ah! but would he win? Would he ever reach the top of those lonely heights? would he ever look down upon the other side? At first the thought of having a companion on his arduous way was a comfort to him. The child's face was sweet, its eyes looked up into his with a trust and confidence that gladdened his spirit. But soon he understood how much more slowly he could advance; how he had to redouble his efforts at every step; how much more often he had to rest because of the toddling feet at his side, and often, very often the child's head pressed against his cheek; he carried it for many weary miles, till his powers were nearly spent. From whence the child came, whose it was, how it had been lost here amongst these drear solitudes Eric could not get it to relate. When he pressed it with questions it would only cry helplessly, and point always before it, as if longing to reach the most giddy heights. The only words it seemed to know were the strange little cry of: "Up, up," or "Over there, over there," and persistently with its tiny hand it pointed to the most distant horizons; and then a feverish shine of expectancy would light its eyes and a flush come over its wan little cheeks. He loved the lonely wee maid, but a frightful apprehension was pressing at his heart--would he be strong enough to save them both? The magic tablets out of the old man's box were diminishing day by day. He wondered how far he still must go before he had scaled the last rock. The child was frail and delicate: its feet were bare, the wretched dress it wore hung in discoloured rags round its thin body. Dark curls clustered round a face of angelic beauty, pale and haggard though it was, out of which the eyes looked like those of a frightened gazelle. With touching gratitude the little creature clung to this man who had saved it in its dire distress, and often Eric would feel the pressure of its warm lips against his hand as they trudged on side by side. Their weary feet were now carrying them across the precipitous incline of a great mountain, the most mighty of all the range, the one whose summit bore the highest peak, the one Eric had singled out as the ultimate object of his steep ascent. Their way lay across wide-spreading mountain meadows, now covered with a white sheet of snow and frost; far ahead lay a dark forest of pine which they would have to traverse before reaching the final ridges beyond.