There was a fierce growl and a few long, slouching strides, and the hound grasped the Abbot's nether parts in his powerful jaws; and with a yell of pain his reverence fell prone upon his face, writhing, groaning, wriggling, and yelling, as though ten thousand fiends clutched him. But the hound clung to him like a vice, chawing his struggling prey the more lustily as he tried to shake him off. At last the fiend called off his hound; but at the same time he lifted his sword over the prostrate Abbot.
"It is no use thy attempting to fly; thy doom is come, and I am here to kill thee. Choose at once whether thou wilt be torn in pieces by my hound or slain by my fiery sword; there is no escape for thee."
"Have mercy, fiend!" groaned the Abbot piteously; "thy hound hath well-nigh killed me already. His teeth are red hot, as thou well knowest. I shall surely die now, after the savage manner he hath torn me. In mercy leave me the little time left me for repentance. Think of my poor soul."
"I am the foul fiend, and there is no mercy now for thee. Thy soul is forfeited and given into my hands; but what of thy body? decide quick! Shall I kill thee, or wilt thou be devoured by my hound?"
Just at that moment, however, the fiend was interrupted, for footsteps and voices were heard approaching, and presently a couple of troopers, attracted by the terrible howling of the Abbot, drew near. As they did so the fiend and his hound promptly disappeared in the wood.
As these troopers timidly and fearfully advanced to the spot, to their consternation they beheld the Abbot lying flat along, and bellowing like any bull of Bashan, and calling upon the saints to come to help him. At once he was recognised by the pair.
"Ho, your reverence! what is this? What ails you?"
"Now the saints be praised! the foul fiend is fled; the Blessed Virgin hath sent me help, but too tardily, for I am surely done for. The mischief is ended, and I shall surely die. Had ye tarried but one minute more, my poor body would have been devoured also."
"What is it, your reverence! Have you been attacked by wolves?"
"Alas! I have been set upon by the wolf of hell; I have met face to face in this very spot the foul fiend. 'Twas the Saxon devil Zernebock, for he spoke Saxon. He and his furious Hel-hound hath set upon me together. The fiend was about to kill me with his fiery sword when ye drew near so opportunely; and his hound hath torn me dreadfully. His teeth were red hot, and he spouted fire out of his fearful mouth. Can ye lift me up? for I hardly know whether he hath left me any legs to stand upon. Oh! not there! not there! did I not tell you he had torn me fearfully behind. Lift me by the shoulder, but do not touch me behind. Steady, ye maudlin villains! did I not tell ye to be steady?" he roared most savagely.