Bang! a gun went off all at once, and both Wild Geese were stretched dead among the reeds; the water became red with blood. Bang! a gun went off again. Whole flocks of Wild Geese flew up from among the reeds, and another report followed.
There was a grand hunting party. The hunters lay in ambush all around; some were even sitting in the trees, whose huge branches stretched far over the moor. The blue smoke rose through the thick trees like a mist, and was dispersed as it fell over the water. The hounds splashed about in the mud, the reeds and rushes bent in all directions.
How frightened the poor little Duck was! He turned his head, thinking to hide it under his wings, and in a moment a most formidable-looking Dog stood close to him, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, his eyes sparkling fearfully. He opened wide his jaws at the sight of our Duckling, showing him his sharp white teeth, and, splash, splash! he was gone—gone without hurting him.
"Well! let me be thankful," sighed he. "I am so ugly that even the Dog will not eat me."
And now he lay still, though the shooting continued among the reeds, shot following shot.
The noise did not cease till late in the day, and even then the poor little thing dared not stir. He waited several hours before he looked around him, and then hurried away from the moor as fast as he could. He ran over fields and meadows, though the wind was so high that he had some difficulty in moving.
Towards evening he reached a wretched little hut, so wretched that it knew not on which side to fall, and therefore remained standing. The wind blew violently, so that our poor little Duckling was obliged to support himself on his tail, in order to stand against it; but it became worse and worse. He then noticed that the door had lost one of its hinges, and hung so much awry that he could creep through the crack into the room. So he went in.
In this room lived an old woman, with her Tom-cat and her Hen. The Cat, whom she called her little son, knew how to set up his back and purr; indeed, he could even throw out sparks when stroked the wrong way. The Hen had very short legs, and was therefore called "Chickie Short-legs." She laid very good eggs, and the old woman loved her as her own child.
The next morning the new guest was discovered, and the Cat began to mew and the Hen to cackle.
