Page:St. Nicholas (serial) (IA stnicholasserial321dodg).pdf/422

In vain was his wrathful pleading,
 Entreaty, or threatening strong,
For, warning and protest unheeding,
 The other drank deep and long.

It silenced his noisy grumbling:
 But soon, where the drifts lay deep,
In drowsy confusion stumbling,
 He fell in a heavy sleep.

And over the mountain’s shoulder,
 The storm-wind’s icy breath
In the murky gloom blew colder,
 A blast from the hills of death!

A ring at the Hospice gateway,
 And a voice that was like a groan,
And the brethren opened straightway
 To a traveler there alone.

He told them, in tones unsteady,
 Of his comrade lost below,
And Barry, alert and ready,
 Was summoned at once to go.

“Safe in the Courtyard Herded.”

Where the pall of the storm was rifted
 By the flickering lantern-shine,
His beautiful eyes were lifted
 To watch for his masters’ sign—

Then away! through the cold and danger,
 By no false trail beguiled,
To search for the outcast stranger
 Alone in the tempest wild.

And swiftly he tracked and found him,
 With a cry of brave delight,
And pawed at the drifts around him,
 Still barking with all his might.

Then he licked the hand and harkened
 Till the traveler moved again,
Awake, but with thought still darkened
 By the drink that had dulled his brain.

For he fancied, in drunken error,
 A wild beast faced him there;
And with cries of abject terror,
 In a frenzy of despair,