Heavy with misery, his head sunk on his breast, he followed the bird with faltering step, mechanically climbing always farther down, but a poor ghost of his former self, looking neither to the right nor to the left, for once quite irresponsive to all the beauty around him. He knew not how he advanced, all had become blank and colourless. As the day drew to an end he came to a wide mountain-meadow where a flock of sheep was peacefully grazing.
Before he could realize what was happening he was suddenly attacked on all sides by savage shaggy dogs that barked furiously, showing their teeth, jumping at him, and tearing at his ragged clothes.
Eric was much too tired to oppose any resistance, and no doubt it would have gone badly with him had not a shrill whistle unexpectedly made the dogs stand still, all attention, their ears pointed, listening.
A heavy stick was now flung in their midst scattering them on all sides, so that they turned and ran yelping after the peaceful sheep, masking their discomfiture by wildly scampering round the flock.
Then a quite young boy came running towards where Eric stood in dejected misery, his strength all spent, incapable of moving another step.
The shepherd youth, seeing how sorry was the plight of this stranger, went quickly up to him, and laying a strong arm round his waist asked if he could be of any help.
Eric was unable to answer; he felt the earth yielding beneath his feet; so he simply laid his head on this sturdy peasant's shoulder and let himself be led away, he knew not whither.
It was long before he came back to the knowledge of his surroundings. He must have lain in a deep swoon; but after a time he felt his head being lifted with rough kindness, whilst a bowl of warm milk was held to his parched lips. He drank in great gulps like one utterly famished; drank and drank till not a drop was left. Through his tired brain shot the thought, that hit him like an aching blow, if only his little companion were there to share this life-giving draught; then he sank back with closed eyes, still too weak to care where he was, indifferent if he was to live or die, all his nature one crying need of repose.
He slept many hours; indeed, so deep was his slumber that after a time the shepherd came to where he lay, anxiously putting his hand upon the sleeper's heart, afraid of finding it silent beneath his touch.
But he felt its regular beating against the tips of his fingers; so he left Eric where he had laid him within the humble hut and went out to his flock, leaning upon his long stick, his chin resting on his hands, looking over the mountains that were gradually fading into the shades of night. Here it was already summer, the grass grew thick and green; the cold and frost had been left up there upon the frowning heights; indeed it was a smiling contrast.