Close to Lucy grew blue gentians like those in Mamma’s garden, and Alpine roses, and black orchids; but she did not know how to come down, and was getting rather frightened, when a clear little voice said, “Little lady, have you lost your way?  Wait till the evening hymn is over, and I’ll come and help you;” and then Lucy stood and listened, while from all the peaks whence the horns had been blown there came the strong, sweet sound of an evening hymn, all joining together, while there arose distant echoes of others farther away.  When it was over, one shout of “Jodel” echoed from each point, and then all was still except for the tinkling of a cow-bell.  “That’s the way we wish each other good night,” said the little girl, as the shadows mounted high on the tops of the mountains, leaving them only peaks of rosy light.  “Now come to the chalet, and sister Rose will give you some milk.”

“Help me.  I’m afraid,” said Lucy.

“That is nothing,” said the mountain maiden springing up to her like a kid, in spite of her great heavy shoes; “you should see the places Father and Seppel climb when they hunt the chamois.”

“What is your name?” asked Lucy, who much liked the looks of her little companion in her broad straw hat, with a bunch of Alpine roses in it, her thick striped frock, and white body and sleeves, braced with black ribbon; it was such a pleasant, fresh, open face, with such rosy cheeks and kindly blue eyes, that Lucy felt quite at home.

“I am little Katherl.  This is the first time I have come up with Rose to the chalet, but I am big enough to milk the cows now.  Ah! do you see Daisy, the black one with a white tuft?  She is our leading cow, and she knows it, the darling.  She never lets the others get into dangerous places; she leads them home at the sound of a horn; and when we go back to the village she will lead the herd with a flower on the point of each horn, and a wreath round her neck.  The men will come up for us, Seppel and all; and may be Seppel will bring the prize medal for shooting with the rifle.”

“But what do you do up here?”

“We girls go up for the summer with the cows to the pastures, the grass is so rich and good on the mountains, and we make butter and cheese.  Wait, and you shall taste.  Sit down on the stone.”

Lucy was glad to hear that promise, for the fresh mountain air had made her hungry.  Katherl skipped away towards a house with a projecting wooden balcony, and deep eaves, beautifully carved, and came back with a slice of bread and delicious butter, and a good piece of cheese, all on a wooden platter, and a little bowl of new milk.  Lucy thought she had never tasted anything so nice.

“And now the gracious little lady will rest a little while,” said Katherl, “whilst I go and help Rose to strain the milk.”

So Lucy waited, but she felt so tired with her scramble that she could not help nodding off to sleep, though she would have liked very much to have stayed longer with the dear little Tyrolese.  But we know by this time where she always found herself when she awoke.