He did not know whom they might prove to be, but wisely thinking that anything would be better than staying in a tree all night at the mercy of hungry wolves, he waited till the first rider came quite close, and then he plucked up courage to call out faintly:  “Oh, sir, stop, I pray thee!”

At this, the rider, who was none other than the noble Count Bernard of Bois Varne, quickly drew rein and, turning, called to his companion: 

“Ho, Brian!  Heardest thou aught?”

“Nay, my lord,” answered Brian, who was some paces behind, “naught save the trampling of our own horses’ hoofs.”

The count looked all around, and seeing nothing, thought himself mistaken in the sound, and began to pace on.  Then Felix, in terror, gave another shout, this time louder, and at the same moment a little twig he was pressing with his elbow broke away and dropped, striking against the count’s stirrup; for the bridle-path wound directly under the tree where Felix was perched.

The count instantly checked his horse again, and, peering up into the boughs overhead, he caught sight of Felix, his yellow hair wet with dew and shining in the moonlight, and his dark eyes wide with fear.

“Heigh-ho!” exclaimed the count, in blank amazement.  “Upon my word, now! what art thou—­boy or goblin?”

At this Felix gave a little sob, for he was very tired and very cold.  He hugged the tree tightly, and, steadying himself against the boughs, at last managed to falter out:  “Please thee, sir, I am Felix Michaud, and my lamb Beppo, who was to ride in the Christmas procession, ran off to-day, and—­and—­I have been hunting him, I think, ever since—­since yesterday!” Here poor Felix grew a trifle bewildered; it seemed to him so very long ago since he had set out in search of Beppo.  “And I live in Sur Varne.”

At this the count gave a long whistle.  “At Sur Varne!” he exclaimed.  “If thou speakest truly, my little man, thou hast indeed a sturdy pair of legs to have carried thee thus far.”  And he eyed curiously Felix’s dusty little feet and leathern leggings, dangling limply from the bough above him.  “Dost thou know how far distant is Sur Varne from this forest?”

“Nay, sir,” answered Felix; “but I trow ’t is a great way.”

“There thou art right,” said the count; “’t is a good two leagues, if it is a pace.  But how now?  Thou canst not bide here to become the prey of hungry wolves, my little night-owl of the yellow hair!”

And thereupon Count Bernard dexterously raised himself in his stirrups, and, reaching upward, caught Felix in his arms and swung him down plump on the saddle-bow in front of him; then, showing him how to steady himself by holding the pommel, he turned to Brian, his squire, who while all this was going on had stood by in silent astonishment, and giving the order to move, the little cavalcade hastened on at a rapid pace in order to get clear of the forest as quickly as possible.