This was something for Rudy to know, but he learnt more from other
sources, particularly from the domestic animals who belonged to the house.
One was a large dog, called Ajola, which had belonged to his father; and the
other was a tom-cat. This cat stood very high in Rudy’s favor, for he had
taught him to climb.
“Come out on the roof with me,” said the cat; and Rudy quite understood
him, for the language of fowls, ducks, cats, and dogs, is as easily
understood by a young child as his own native tongue. But it must be at the
age when grandfather’s stick becomes a neighing horse, with head, legs,
and tail. Some children retain these ideas later than others, and they are
considered backwards and childish for their age. People say so; but is it so?
“Come out on the roof with me, little Rudy,” was the first thing he heard
the cat say, and Rudy understood him. “What people say about falling down
is all nonsense,” continued the cat; “you will not fall, unless you are afraid.
Come, now, set one foot here and another there, and feel your way with
your fore-feet. Keep your eyes wide open, and move softly, and if you come
to a hole jump over it, and cling fast as I do.” And this was just what Rudy
did. He was often on the sloping roof with the cat, or on the tops of high
trees. But, more frequently, higher still on the ridges of the rocks where
puss never came.
“Higher, higher!” cried the trees and the bushes, “see to what height we
have grown, and how fast we hold, even to the narrow edges of the rocks.”
Rudy often reached the top of the mountain before the sunrise, and there
inhaled his morning draught of the fresh, invigorating mountain air,-God’s
own gift, which men call the sweet fragrance of plant and herb on the
mountain-side, and the mint and wild thyme in the valleys. The
overhanging clouds absorb all heaviness from the air, and the winds convey
them away over the pine-tree summits. The spirit of fragrance, light and
fresh, remained behind, and this was Rudy’s morning draught. The
sunbeams-those blessing-bringing daughters of the sun-kissed his cheeks.
Vertigo might be lurking on the watch, but he dared not approach him. The
swallows, who had not less than seven nests in his grandfather’s house, flew
