“Now you’re teasin’,” said Lloyd, with a playful pout.  “But I do wish that the Majah had left Hero.  There are so few times left for us to go walkin’ togethah.”

“I’m afraid that you look oftener at that dog than you do at the scenery and the foreign sights that you came over here to see,” said her father, with a smile.  “You can see dogs in Lloydsboro Valley any day.”

“But none like Hero,” cried the Little Colonel, loyally.  “And I am noticin’ the sights, Papa Jack.  I think there was nevah anything moah beautiful than these mountains, and I just love it heah when it is so sunny and still.  Listen to the goat-bells tinklin’ away up yondah where that haymakah is climbing with a pack of hay tied on his shouldahs!  And how deep and sweet the church-bell sounds down heah in the valley as it tolls across the watah!  The lake looks as blue as the sapphires in mothah’s necklace.  The pictuah it makes for me is one of the loveliest things that my wondah-ball has unrolled.  Nobody could have a bettah birthday present than this trip has been.  The only thing about it that has made me unhappy for a minute is that I must leave Hero and nevah see him again.  He follows me just as well now as he does his mastah.”

The Major came back from his long climb up the mountain, very tired.  “It is more than I should have undertaken the first day,” he said, “but back here in the scenes of my boyhood I find it hard to realise that I am an old, old man.  I’ll be rested in the morning, however, ready for whatever comes.”

But in the morning he was still much exhausted, and came down-stairs leaning heavily on his cane.  He asked to be excused from going up on the Rigi with them.  He said that he would stay at home and sit in the sun and rest.  They offered to postpone the trip, but he insisted on their going without him.  They must be moving on to Zuerich, soon, he reminded them, and they might not have another day of such perfect weather, for the excursion.

Hero stood looking from the Major in his chair, to the Little Colonel, standing with her hat and jacket on, ready to start.  He could not understand why he and his master should be left behind, and walked from one to the other, wagging his tail and looking up questioningly into their faces.

“Go, if you wish,” said the Major, kindly patting his head.  “Go and take good care of thy little Christine.  Let no harm befall her this day!” The dog bounded away as if glad of the permission, but at the door turned back, and seeing that the Major was not following, picked up his hat in his mouth.  Then, carrying it back to the Major, stood looking up into his master’s face, wagging his tail.

The Major took the hat and laid it on the table beside him.  “No, not to-day, good friend,” he said, smiling at the dog’s evident wish to have him go also.  “You may go without me, this time.  Call him, Christine, if you wish his company.”

“Come Hero, come on,” called Lloyd.  “It’s all right.”