“But it was very late, so everybody was asleep, and no one answered.
“The man walked farther and farther on. At last in the distance he saw the glimmer of flames, and, going in that direction, he perceived that the fire was burning in the open air. Around it lay sleeping a flock of white sheep, watched by an old shepherd.
“When the man came up he saw that three large dogs also rested asleep at the shepherd’s feet. Waking at his approach, they opened their wide jaws as if to bark, but no sound was heard. The man saw the hair rise on their backs and their sharp teeth glitter in the firelight as they rushed upon him. One snapped at his legs, one at his hand, and a third sprang at his throat. But neither jaws nor teeth would obey and the man did not feel the smallest hurt.
“He wanted to go on that he might get what he needed. But the sheep lay so close together that he could not move forward. So he stepped on the animals’ backs, and walked across them to the fire. But not a single one moved or stirred.”
“Why didn’t they move, Grandmother?” I asked.
“You will find out in a little while,” answered Grandmother, and kept on with the story.
“When the man had almost reached the fire the shepherd looked up. He was a surly old man, cross and disagreeable to everybody. So when he saw the stranger, he caught up the long, pointed staff he carried in his hand while he was watching the flock, and hurled it at him. The stick flew straight at the man, but before it struck him, turned aside and whizzed far over the field.”
Here I interrupted again. “Grandmother, why didn’t the stick hit the man?” But she went on without answering.
“Then the man said to the shepherd, ‘Good friend, aid me by letting me have a little fire. My wife has an infant child and I need it to warm them both.’
“The shepherd would gladly have refused, but when he thought that his dogs had not been able to hurt the man, that the sheep had not run from him, and his staff would not strike him, he felt a little afraid, and did not dare to do so.