“That’s a bright idea,” answered her father, who was really more anxious than he allowed any one to see.  “At least it can do no harm to try.”

“I don’t want any dessert.  Mayn’t I go now?” Lloyd asked.  As she hurried up the stairs, her heart beating with excitement, she whispered to herself, “Oh, if he should happen to be lost or hurt, and Hero should find him, it would be the loveliest thing that evah happened.”

Hero seemed to know, from the moment he saw the little flask marked with the well-known Red Cross, what was expected of him.  All the guests in the inn gathered around the door to see him start on his uncertain quest.  He sniffed excitedly at his master’s slipper, which Lloyd held out to him.  Then, as she motioned toward the mountain, and gave the command in French that the Major had taught her, he bounded out into the gloaming, with several quick short barks, and darted up the narrow street that led to the mountain road.

Maybe if he had not been with his master that way, the day before, he might not have known what path to take.  The heavy rain had washed away all trails, so he could not trace him by the sense of smell; but remembering the path which they had travelled together the previous day, he instinctively started up that.

The group in the doorway of the inn watched him as long as they could see the white line of his silvery ruff gleam through the dusk, and then, going back to the parlour, sat down to wait for his return.  To most of them it was a matter of only passing interest.  They were curious to know how much the dog’s training would benefit his master, under the circumstances, if he should be lost.  But to the Little Colonel it seemed a matter of life and death.  She walked nervously up and down the hall with her hands behind her, watching the clock and running to the door to peer out in the darkness, every time she heard a sound.

Some one played a noisy two-step on the loose-jointed old piano.  A young man sang a serenade in Italian, and two girls, after much coaxing, consented to join in a high, shrill duet.

Light-hearted laughter and a babel of conversation floated from the parlour to the hall, where Lloyd watched and waited.  Her father waited with her, but he had a newspaper.  Lloyd wondered how he could read while such an important search was going on.  She did not know that he had little faith in the dog’s ability to find his master.  She, however, had not a single doubt of it.

The time seemed endless.  Again and again the little cuckoo in the hall clock came out to call the hour, the quarters and halves.  At last there was a patter of big soft paws on the porch, and Lloyd springing to the door, met Hero on the threshold.  Something large and gray was in his mouth.

“Oh, Papa Jack!” she cried.  “He’s found him!  Hero’s found him!  This is the Majah’s Alpine hat.  The flask is gone from his collah, so the Majah must have needed help.  And see how wild Hero is to start back.  Oh, Papa Jack!  Hurry, please!”