And now the day began to break. The owls and bats slipped into their hiding-places; the air became chilly. Suddenly all grew silent, like death. And still the squint-eyed one fled on and on, with the one thought ever in his heart: “Shall I come too late to save my friend?”
The east grew red; first on the far horizon the clouds were faintly tipped with fire; then it spread and spread, and suddenly—a flame. The dew flashed on the grass, the birds awoke, the ants and worms and beetles began to move, a light smoke rose from somewhere; through the rye and oats a whisper seemed to pass—clearer, clearer.... But the squint-eyed one saw nothing, heard nothing, only murmured to himself again and again: “I have destroyed my friend,—destroyed my friend!”
At last, a hill! Beyond that was a marsh, and in the marsh the wolf’s lair.... Too late, oh squint-eyed one, too late!...
With one last effort he put forth all his remaining strength, and bounded to the top of the hill. But he could go no further; he was sinking from exhaustion. And must he fail now?...
The wolf’s lair lay before him as on a map. Somewhere far off six o’clock struck from a church steeple, and every stroke of the bell beat like a hammer on the heart of the agonized creature. At the last stroke the wolf rose from his lair, stretched himself, and wagged his tail for pleasure. Then he went up to the hostage, seized him in his fore-paws, and stuck the claws into his body, in order to tear him in two halves, one for himself, the other for his wife. And the wolf-cubs surrounded their father and mother, gnashing their teeth and looking on....
“I am here!—Here!” shrieked the squint-eyed one, like a hundred thousand rabbits at once; and he flung himself down from the hill into the marsh.
And the wolf praised him.
“I see,” he said, “that a rabbit’s word can be trusted. And now, my little dears, this is my command: Sit, both of you, under this bush, and wait till I am ready, and afterwards I will ... ha! ha! ... pardon you!”
CHOIR PRACTICE.
