on top of it went the puppy, yelping dismally.  Then slowly, carefully, clinging with hands and feet for life and limb, Hilda reascended the wall.  Oh, but it was hard work!  Her hands were already very sore, and the heavy bundle hung back from her neck and half choked her.  Moreover the puppy was uncomfortable, and yelped piteously, and struggled in his bonds, while the sharp corner of the iron box pressed painfully against the back of her neck.  The jutting stones were far apart, and several times it seemed as if she could not possibly reach the next one.  But the royal blood was fully up.  Queen Hildegarde set her teeth, and grasped the stones as if her slender hands were nerved with steel.  At last! at last she felt the edge; and the next moment had dragged herself painfully over it, and stood once more on solid ground.  She drew a long breath, and hastily untying the apron from her neck, took poor Jock tenderly in one arm, while with the other she carried the lantern and the iron box.  Will was jumping frantically about, and trying to reach his brother puppy, who responded with squeaks of joy to his enraptured greeting.

“Down, Will!” said Hilda, decidedly.  “Down, sir!  Lie still, Jocky! we shall be at home soon now.  Patience, little dog!” And Jock tried hard to be patient; though it was not pleasant to be squeezed into a ball while his mistress crawled out of the hole, which she did with some difficulty, laden with her triple burden.

However, they were out at last, and speeding back towards the farm as fast as eager feet could carry them.  Little thought had Hilda now of spectral trees or ghostly gloom.  Joyfully she hurried back, up the long steps, along the glade, through the beach-plantation; only laughing now when the feathery fingers brushed her face, and hugging Jock so tight that he squeaked again.  Now she saw the lights twinkling in the farm-house, and quickening her pace, she fairly ran through lane and barnyard, and finally burst into the kitchen, breathless and exhausted, but radiant.  The farmer and his wife, who were sitting with disturbed and anxious looks, rose hastily as she entered.

“Oh, Hilda, dear!” cried Dame Hartley, “we have been terribly frightened about you.  Jacob has been searching—­But, good gracious, child!” she added, breaking off hastily, “where have you been, and what have you been doing to get yourself into such a state!”

Well might the good woman exclaim, while the farmer gazed in silent astonishment.  The girl’s dress was torn and draggled, and covered with great spots and splashes of black.  Her face was streaked with dirt, her fair hair hanging loose upon her shoulders.  Could this be Hilda, the dainty, the spotless?  But her eyes shone like stars, and her face, though very pale, wore a look of triumphant delight.

“I have found him!” she said, simply.  “My little Jock!  Simon threw him into the wheel-pit of the old mill, and I went to get him out.  His leg is broken, but I know you can set it, Nurse Lucy.  Don’t look so frightened,” she added, smiling, seeing that the farmer and his wife were fairly pale with horror; “it was not so very bad, after all.”  And in as few words as might be, she told the story of Bubble’s note and of her strange expedition.