And so they made ready for the journey, and set out.
Now when they came to the place of real people, all these were greatly astonished to find their old comrade still alive. For they had thought him dead long since.
And the dwarf people lived happily enough among the real men, and after a little time they forgot to be troubled and afraid.
But one day when the little dwarf grandmother was sitting at the opening of the passage way with the little child, she dropped the child in the passage.
“Hlurp—hlurp—hlurp,” was all she heard. A great dog, his face black on one side and white on the other, lay there in the passage, and it ate up the child on the spot.
“Ai—ai,” she cried. “Nothing is left but a little smear on the ground.”
And now the dwarf folk were filled with horror, and the little old man was for setting off at once. So they gathered their belongings together and set out.
And whenever they came to a village, they went up on shore, and the old man always went up with his tent-skins on his back.
“Are there any dogs here? Is there a great beast with a black-and-white face?” was always the first thing he asked.
“Yes, indeed.” And before they could turn round, the old man was back in his boat again, so great was his fear of dogs.