At first he thought it was the wolf. But it was not the wolf.
The hunter blows his horn.
Then he thought it was a man. So he blew a loud and long blast with his horn. He thought that if the moving thing which he saw were another man, he would answer by blowing his horn, and that then, perhaps, he would come and help the hunter hunt the wolf. He listened, but he heard no reply. He heard nothing but echoes.
By-and-by he came to a stream of water. It was a torrent, flowing wildly among the rocks and bushes.
“Bruno,” said the hunter, “how shall we get across this torrent?”
Bruno stood upon a rock, looking at the torrent very earnestly, but he did not speak.
“Bruno,” said the hunter again, “how shall we get across this torrent?”
Bruno barked.
The rude bridge.