“Let us run as fast as we can,” said the boy, in evident fear; “hear him—hear him!”
“Bow-wow-wow-o-o-o-o,” and the sound came nearer and nearer.
“What is it? why are you so afraid?” anxiously inquired Eric.
“Oh! that is Ralph’s bloodhound, Tuscar,” cried Wolf, “and he is following us. He won’t perhaps touch me, but you he may.” So Eric ran as fast as he could, but never let go the gold thread, which this time led up a steep hill, which they were obliged to scramble up. “Run, Eric!—quick—hide—up a tree—anywhere!”
“I cannot, I dare not,” said Eric; “whatever happens, I must hold fast my thread.”
But they heard the “Bow-wow-o-o-o” coming nearer and nearer, and as they looked back they saw an immense hound rush out of the wood, and as he came to the water he saw the boys on the opposite hill, and so he leaped into the stream, and in a few minutes would be near them. And now he came bellowing like a fierce bull up the hill, his tongue hanging out, and his nose smelling along the ground, following their footsteps.
“I shall run and meet him,” said Wolf, “and stop him if I can;” and down ran the swineherd, calling “Tuscar! Tuscar! good dog, Tuscar!”
But though Tuscar knew Wolf, he passed him, and ran up to Eric. As he reached Eric, who stood calm and firm, the bloodhound stopped panting, smelling his clothes all round, but, strange to say, wagging his huge tail, and then ran back the way he had come, as if he had made a mistake, and all his race was for nothing! It was the large hound Eric had fed! So his kindness was not lost even on the dog.
CHAPTER V.
Eric and Wolf now pursued their journey with light and hopeful hearts, for they had got out of what was called the wild robber country, and he knew that he was drawing near home. The thread was stronger than ever, and every hour it helped more and more to support him. On the two went together, Wolf trotting along with his short stick, and sometimes snorting and blowing with fatigue like one of his own pigs. They conversed as best they could about all they had seen.