She tried to make a last effort to get to the wood where she could find a spot to lie down for her last sleep, somewhere away from the road. She managed to drag herself into the wood, and there she found a little grassy spot where violets were growing. She laid down under a large tree, her head on her arm, just as she did at night when she went to sleep. CHAPTER VI THE RESCUE Something warm passing over her face made her open her eyes. Dimly she saw a large velvety head bending over her. In terror she tried to throw herself on one side, but a big tongue licked her cheek and held her to the grass. So quickly had this happened that she had not had time to recognize the big velvety head which belonged to a donkey, but while the great tongue continued to lick her face and hands she was able to look up at it. Palikare! It was dear, dear Palikare! She threw her arms around her donkey's neck and burst into tears. "My darling, dear, darling Palikare," she murmured. When he heard his name he stopped licking her and lifting his head he sent forth five or six triumphant brays of happiness. Then, as though that was not enough to express his contentment, he let out five or six more, but not quite so loud. Perrine then noticed that he was without a harness or a rope. While she stroked him with her hand and he bent his long ears down to her, she heard a hoarse voice calling: "What yer found, old chap? I'll be there in a minute. I'm comin', old boy." [Illustration: SOMETHING WARM PASSING OVER HER FACE MADE HER OPEN HER EYES.] There was a quick step on the road, and Perrine saw what appeared to be a man dressed in a smock and wearing a leather hat and with a pipe in his mouth. "Hi, kid, what yer doin' with my donkey?" he cried, without taking the pipe from his lip. Then Perrine saw that it was the rag woman to whom she had sold Palikare at the Horse Market. The woman did not recognize her at first. She stared hard at her for a moment. "Sure I've seen yer somewhere," she said at last. "It was I who sold you Palikare," said Perrine. "Why, sure it's you, little one, but what in Heaven's name are you doin' here?" Perrine could not reply. She was so giddy her head whirled. She had been sitting up, but now she was obliged to lie down again, and her pallor and tears spoke for her. "What's the matter? Are you sick?" demanded La Rouquerie. Although Perrine moved her lips as though to speak, no sound came. Again she was sinking into unconsciousness, partly from emotion, partly from weakness. But La Rouquerie was a woman of experience; she had seen all miseries. "The kid's dying of hunger," she muttered to herself. She hurried over the road to a little truck over the sides of which were spread out some dried rabbit skins. The woman quickly opened a box and took out a slice of bread, a piece of cheese and a bottle. She carried it back on the run. Perrine was still in the same condition.