Suddenly a great agitation seized St. Aubyn.  “Look look!” he cried, clutching me by the arm; “here, where we stand, is the very spot from which my boy fell!  And below yonder is the valley!”

Even as he uttered the words, the dogs halted and came towards us, looking wistfully into St. Aubyn’s face, as though they fain would speak to him.  We stood still, and looked down into the green valley, green even in mid-winter, where a score of goats were browsing in the sunshine.  Here my friend would have descended, but the Raouls bade him trust the leadership of the dogs.

“Follow them, monsieur,” said Theodor, impressively; “they can see, and you cannot.  It is the good God that conducts them.  Doubtless they have brought us to this spot to show you they know it, and to inspire you with confidence in their skill and guidance.  See! they are advancing!  On! do not let us remain behind!”

Thus urged, we hastened after our canine guides, who, impelled by the mysterious influence of their strange faculty, were again pressing forward.  This time the track ascended.  Soon we lost sight of the valley, and an hour’s upward scrambling over loose rocks and sharp crags brought us to a chasm, the two edges of which were separated by a precipitous gulf some twenty feet across.  This chasm was probably about eight or nine hundred feet deep, and its sides were straight and sheer as those of a well.  Our ladders were in requisition now, and with the aid of these and the ropes, all the members of our party, human and canine, were safely landed on the opposite brink of the abyss.

We had covered about two miles of difficult ground beyond the chasm, when once more, on the brow of a projecting eminence, the hounds halted for the last time, and drew near St. Aubyn, gazing up at him with eloquent exulting eyes, as though they would have said, “He whom you seek is here!”

It was a wild and desolate spot, strewn with tempest-torn branches, a spot hidden from the sun by dense masses of pine foliage, and backed by sharp peaks of granite.  St. Aubyn looked around him, trembling with emotion.

“Shout,” cried one of the peasants; “shout, the boy may hear you!”

“Alas,” answered the father, " he cannot hear; you forget that my child is deaf and dumb!”

At that instant, Theodor, who for a brief while had stood apart, abstracted and silent, approached St. Aubyn and grasped his hand.

“Shout!” repeated he, with the earnestness of a command; “call your boy by his name!”

St Aubyn looked at him with astonishment; then in a clear piercing voice obeyed.

“Charlie!” he cried; “Charlie, my boy! where are you?”