They had proceeded about a mile when they saw a boy in the distance running along the road they were going. They stopped when he came up, and, as he lifted a corner of his jacket, what was their delight to see snugly lying there rolled up like a ball a Pomeranian puppy, about four weeks old, with a soft, white, silky coat.
“What are you going to do with the pretty creature?” they all exclaimed with one breath.
“Give him to whoever will take him,” said the boy, “for we have three more of the same sort at home. Would you like to have him?” he continued.
“That I should dearly,” said Hans, holding out both hands to receive the little fellow, “and thank you a thousand times.”
“You are heartily welcome,” returned their new friend; “indeed, I am obliged to you for taking him off my hands.”
The bottle of milk was at once opened, and, there being no cup, Hans’s hand was filled again and again for the dog to lap from, which he did most gratefully; after which a bed was made up of Nanny’s cloak, and, with her apron to cover him, he was soon asleep.
And now they start off afresh, and their way being for a time in the direction of the boy’s home, he proposed harnessing himself to make a third, and away they went full gallop.