“You are safe with me on the mountain-side,” said the goatherd. He took out his little flute and played one of his queer tunes on it. An enormous horned head suddenly appeared at the entrance of the cave, and everyone jumped in fright.
“Ha, old one, you are there!” cried Beowald, as he heard the patter of the big goat’s hooves. “Keep by me, old one, and together we will lead these friends of ours safely down our mountain-side!”
“Take hands,” ordered Ranni. “Don’t let go, whatever you do. If anything happens, and you have to let go, shout and keep on shouting so that we keep in touch with one another. We have had enough narrow escapes for one day!”
Everyone took hands. Beowald went out of the cave, playing his flute, his left hand firmly clasped in Ranni’s big one. Behind Ranni came Paul, then Mike, then Jack, then Pilescu, all firmly holding hands.
“I feel as if we’re going to play ‘Ring-a-ring-of-roses’!” said Jack, with a laugh.
“Well, don’t let’s play the ‘all-fall-down’ part,” said Mike at once. “It wouldn’t be at all a good thing to do on a steep mountain-side like this.”
They felt light-hearted at the idea of going home at last. With Beowald’s music sounding plaintively through the mist, they stumbled along down the steep mountain-path. Two or three times one or other of the boys fell, and broke hands. They shouted at once, and the party stopped and joined together again.
It was slow work walking in the thick mist. They could barely see the person in front. Only Beowald walked steadily and surely. He could see with his feet!
“Don’t go too fast, Beowald,” said Ranni, as he felt the little prince dragging behind him. “Remember, we cannot see anything — not even our own feet.”
“Neither can Beowald!” thought Mike. “How marvellous he is! Whatever should we have done without him?”