CHAPTER XIV
THE DEATH OF PRETTY-HEART
THE sun came out brightly. Its rays fell on the white snow, and the forest, which the night before had looked so bleak and livid, was now dazzling with a radiancy that blinded the eyes. Several times Vitalis passed his hand under the coverlet to feel Pretty-Heart, but the poor little monkey did not get warmer, and when I bent over him I could hear him shivering and shaking. The blood in his veins was frozen.
"We must get to a village or Pretty-Heart will die," said Vitalis. "Let us start at once."
His wrappings were well heated and the little creature was rolled in them. My master placed him under his vest, next his heart. We were ready.
"This was a shelter," said Vitalis, looking round the hut as we were going out, "that has made us pay dearly for its hospitality." His voice trembled.
He went out first, and I followed in his footsteps. When we had gone a few yards we had to call to Capi. Poor dog, he had remained standing outside the hut, his nose turned to the spot where his companions had been taken by the wolves.
Ten minutes later we reached the main road.
