Lying down beside the freezing child, he pressed his great shaggy body close to Cyril's; protecting him from the swirling snow and from the worst of the cold.
The dog's dark, deep-set eyes roved watchfully toward the crevice, alert for sign of any other marauder that might issue forth.

His own shaggy shoulder was hurting him, annoyingly, from the wildcat's bite.
But to this he gave no heed.

Closer yet, he pressed his warm, furry body to the ice-cold youngster; fending off the elements as valorously as he had fended off the wildcat.
The warmth of the great body began to penetrate Cyril's numbed senses.
The child snuggled to the dog, gratefully.

Lad's pink tongue licked caressingly at the white face; and the collie whimpered crooning sympathy to the little sufferer.
So, for a time the dog and the child lay there; Cyril's numb body warming under the contact.
Then, at a swift intake of the windy air, Lad's whimper changed to a thunder of wild barking.

His nostrils had told him of the search party's approach, a few hundred yards to the windward.
Their dispiritingly aimless hunt changing into a scrambling rush in the direction whence came the faint-heard barks, the searchers trooped toward the ledge.
"Here we are!" shrilled the child, as the Master's halloo sounded directly above.