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.