She caressed the great beast, making him lie down again; then coming forward and taking Martin by the hand, she drew him up to her knees.
[Illustration: ] "What is your name, poor little suffering child ?" she asked, bending down to him, and speaking softly.

"Martin--what's yours ?" he returned, still half sobbing, and rubbing his eyes with his little fists.
"I am called the Lady of the Hills, and I live here alone in the mountain.

Tell me, why do you cry, Martin ?" "Because I'm so cold, and--and my legs hurt so, and--and because I want to go back to my mother.

She's over there," said he, with another sob, pointing vaguely to the great plain beneath their feet, extending far, far away into the blue distance, where the crimson sun was now setting.
"I will be your mother, and you shall live with me here on the mountain," she said, caressing his little cold hands with hers.
"Will you call me mother ?" "You are _not_ my mother," he returned warmly.

"I don't want to call you mother." "When I love you so much, dear child ?" she pleaded, bending down until her lips were close to his averted face.
"How that great spotted cat stares at me!" he suddenly said.
"Do you think it will kill me ?" "No, no, he only wants to play with you.