Ivan crept nearer. Through an opening between the trees he could see the giant’s great hands fumbling over his foot. With a piece of fur he was trying to stop a small cataract of blood that was bursting out from it. Every now and then, in his clumsy efforts, he seemed to hurt himself more, for he would throw back his head and give the same deafening howl Ivan had heard before.
Ivan shivered. In all his life he had never seen a giant; and terrified as he was, he must have a good look at this one. Crouching, he stole through the shadow to a little thicket at the giant’s side, and parting the twigs, leaned eagerly forward. But he had reckoned too much on the bushes. Under his weight they cracked and bent, and snapped altogether. His foot slipped, and losing his balance, he crashed through the brush at the giant’s very elbow.
With a swoop the giant grasped at him. But Ivan was too quick. He dodged just out of reach, and ran as he had never run before.
“Little creature! Little creature!” called the giant, “don’t run away. I won’t hurt you. Come back, do come back and help me. If you will bind up my foot for me, I will give you a reward.”
Ivan’s heart thumped. The giant could crush him in one of his great hands. But he was in pain, and he had a kindly face. It would be mean to leave him there alone.
“Oh, little creature,” moaned the giant again, “don’t leave me. I promise I won’t hurt you. Do come, do come.”
Ivan turned. Stanchly he walked over to the giant’s foot, and running his hand gently along the sole, picked the rocks and pebbles out of the great gash.
The giant sighed with relief. “Thank you!” he said. “I hurt it rooting up an oak-tree, and then I walked on it.”
Ivan pulled off his blouse, and tore it into long pieces. Knotting them together, he made a strip five or six yards long. He laid it against the wound, and the giant drew it over the top of the foot where it was hard for him to reach. Between them they made a neat, firm bandage of it, with all the knots on top.