The beads of water on the twigs and
the few leaves that remained dried fast. The grass dried, too, and
beyond the covert the snow, so quick to come, was equally quick to go.
The horse ceased to nibble the grass, looked at the sleeping boy,
touched his blankets lightly with his nose, and walked to the other side
of the opening, where he lay down and went to his own horse heaven of
sleep.
It was not many hours until day and Old Jack was a light sleeper. When
he opened his eyes again he saw a clear and beautiful winter day of the
far south. The only clouds in the sky were little drifting bits of fine
white wool, and the warm wind still blew. Old Jack, who was in reality
Young Jack, as his years were not yet four, did not think so much of the
covert now, as he had already eaten away all the grass within the little
opening but his sense of duty was strong. He saw that his human master
and comrade still slept, apparently with no intention of awakening at
any very early date, and he set himself to gleaning stray blades of
grass that might have escaped his notice the night before.
Ned awoke a little after the noon hour, and sprang to his feet in
dismay. The sun was almost directly over his head, showing him how late
it was.
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