CHAPTERIV.Erichad now to endure a great trial of his faith in the thread. As he journeyed on, the thread led him up a winding path towards the summit of a hill, descending which the large trees of the forest were left behind, and small stunted bushes grew among masses of gray rocks. The path was like the bed of a dry brook, and was often very steep. There were no birds, except little stonechats, that hopped and chirped among the large round stones. Far below, he could see the tops of the trees, and here and there a stream glittering under the sunbeams. Nothing disturbed the silence but the hoarse croak of the raven, or the wild cry of a kite or an eagle, that, like a speck, wheeled far up in the sky. But, suddenly, Eric heard a roar like thunder, that seemed to come from the direction towards which the thread was leading him. He stopped for a moment, but the thread was firm in his hand and led right up the hill. On he went, and no wonder he was afraid, when, as he turned the corner of a rock, he heard another roar, and saw the head of a large lion looking out of what seemed to be a cave, a few yards back from the edge of a dizzy precipice! He saw, too, that the path he must follow was between the lion’s den and the precipice! What now was to be done? Would he give up his thread and fly? No! A voice in his heart encouraged him to be brave and not fear, and he knew from his experience that he had always been led in safety and peace when he followed the road, holding fast to his thread. He was certain that his father never would deceive him, or bid him do anything but what was right; and he was sure, too, that the lady, from her love to him, and her teaching him to trust God and to pray, would not have bid him do anything that was wrong. And then an old verse his nurse taught him came into his mind,—“Fear not to do right,Fear not the grave;But fear to do wrong,Your life to save.”All this, and much more, passed through little Eric’s mind in a minute, and so he resolved to go on, come what might. There was just one thing he saw which cheered him, and that was a white hare, sitting with her ears cocked, quite close to the lion’s den, and he wondered how she had no fear, but could not explain it at the time. On he went, but he could hardly breathe, as the thread led still nearer and nearer the den. These big eyes were glaring on him, and seemed to draw him closer and closer! There the lion was, on one side of the path, and the great precipice on the other. One step more, and he was between them. He went on until he was so near that he seemed to feel the lion’s breath, when suddenly he sprang out on him, and tried to strike him with his huge paw that would have crushed him to the dust! Eric shut his eyes, and gave himself up for lost. But the lion suddenly fell back, for he was held fast by a great iron chain, and so Eric passed in safety!Oh! how thankful he was! and how gladly he ran downhill, the lion roaring behind him in his den. Down he ran until all was quiet again. As he pursued his journey in the beautiful green woods, something told him his greatest trial was past. He felt very peaceful and strong. And now, as he reached some noble old beech-trees, the thread fell on the grass, and he took this as a sign that he should lie down too, and so he did, grateful for the rest. He ate some of his cake that tasted so nice, and drank from a clear spring beside him, and gathered wild strawberries which grew in abundance all round him, and thus had quite a feast. He then stretched himself on his back among soft moss, and looked up through the branches of the gigantic trees, and watched with delight the sunlight speckling the emerald green leaves and brown bark with touches of silver, and, far up, the deep blue sky with white clouds reposing on it, like snowy islands on a blue ocean; and he watched the squirrels with their bushy tails, as they ran up the trees, and jumped from branch to branch, and sported among the leaves, until he fell into a sort of pleasant day-dream, and felt so happy, he hardly knew why.As he lay here, he thought he heard in his half-waking dream a little squirrel sing a song. Was it not his own heart, now so glad because doing what was right, which was singing? This was the song which he thought he heard:—“I’m a merry, merry squirrel;All day I leap and whirl,Through my home in the old beech-tree;If you chase me, I will runIn the shade and in the sun,But you never, never can catch me!For round a bough I’ll creep,Playing hide-and-seek so sly,Or through the leaves Bo-peep,With my little shining eye.Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!“Up and down I run and frisk,With my bushy tail to whiskAll who mope in the old beech-trees;How droll to see the owl,As I make him wink and growl,When his sleepy, sleepy head I tease!And I waken up the bat,Who flies off with a scream,For he thinks that I’m the catPouncing on him in his dream.Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!“Through all the summer longI never want a song,From my birds in the old beech-trees;I have singers all the night,And with the morning bright,Come my busy humming fat brown bees.When I’ve nothing else to do,With the nursing birds I sit,And we laugh at the cuckooA-cuckooing to her tit!Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!“When winter comes with snow,And its cruel tempests blowAll the leaves from my old beech-trees,Then beside the wren and mouseI furnish up a house,Where like a prince I live at my ease!What care I for hail or sleet,With my cosy cap and coat!And my tail upon my feet,Or wrapped about my throat!Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!”As Eric opened his eyes and looked up, he saw a little squirrel with its tail curling up its back, sitting on a branch looking down upon him; and then it playfully ran away with the tail waving after it. “Farewell, happy little fellow!” said Eric; “I must do my work now, and play like you afterwards;” for now the thread again became tight, and Eric, refreshed with his rest, and hearty for his journey, stepped out bravely. He saw, at some distance beyond an open glade in the forest, a rapid river towards which he was descending, when he thought he perceived something struggling in the stream, and then heard a loud cry or scream for help, as if from one drowning. He was almost tempted to run off to his assistance without his thread, but he felt thankful that the thread became tight again, and led in the very direction from whence he heard the cries coming. So off he ran as fast as he could, and as he came to the brink of a deep, dark pool in the river, he saw the head of a boy rising above the water, as the poor little fellow tried to keep himself afloat. Now he sank—again he rose—until he suddenly sank down and did not again appear. Eric laid hold of his thread with a firm hand and leaped in over head and ears, and then rose to the surface, and with his other hand swam to where the boy had disappeared. He soon caught him, and brought him with great difficulty to the surface, which he never could have done unless the thread had supported them both above the water.“Eric!” cried the gasping boy, opening his eyes, almost covered by his long wet hair.“Wolf, is it you?” It was indeed poor Wolf, who lay panting on the dry land, with his hairy clothes dripping with water, and himself hardly able to speak. “Oh, tell me, Wolf, what brought you here? I am so glad to have helped you!”After a little time, when Wolf could speak, he told him in his own way, bit by bit, how Ralph had suspected him; and how the old woman had heard him speaking as she was looking out of an upper window; and how when Ralph asked the gold belt he could not give it; and how he was obliged himself to fly; and how he had been running for his life for hours. “Now let us fly,” said Wolf; “I am quite strong again. I fear that they are in pursuit of us.”They both went on at a quick pace, Eric having shown Wolf the thread he had asked him about the day before, and explained to him how he must never part with it, come what might. “Oh, rub-a-dub, dub!” said Wolf, squeezing the water out of his hair, as he trotted along; “I am glad to be away. Ralph would have killed me like a pig. The voice told me to run after you.” So on they went as fast as they could, when suddenly Wolf stopped, and listening with anxious face he said, “Hark! did you hear anything?”“No,” said Eric; “what was it?”“Hush!—listen!—there again—I hear it!”“I think I do hear something far off like a dog’s bark,” replied Eric. “Hark!”So they both stopped and listened, and far away they heard a deep “Bow-wow-wow-wow-o-o-o-o-o” echoing through the forest.“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.
Erichad now to endure a great trial of his faith in the thread. As he journeyed on, the thread led him up a winding path towards the summit of a hill, descending which the large trees of the forest were left behind, and small stunted bushes grew among masses of gray rocks. The path was like the bed of a dry brook, and was often very steep. There were no birds, except little stonechats, that hopped and chirped among the large round stones. Far below, he could see the tops of the trees, and here and there a stream glittering under the sunbeams. Nothing disturbed the silence but the hoarse croak of the raven, or the wild cry of a kite or an eagle, that, like a speck, wheeled far up in the sky. But, suddenly, Eric heard a roar like thunder, that seemed to come from the direction towards which the thread was leading him. He stopped for a moment, but the thread was firm in his hand and led right up the hill. On he went, and no wonder he was afraid, when, as he turned the corner of a rock, he heard another roar, and saw the head of a large lion looking out of what seemed to be a cave, a few yards back from the edge of a dizzy precipice! He saw, too, that the path he must follow was between the lion’s den and the precipice! What now was to be done? Would he give up his thread and fly? No! A voice in his heart encouraged him to be brave and not fear, and he knew from his experience that he had always been led in safety and peace when he followed the road, holding fast to his thread. He was certain that his father never would deceive him, or bid him do anything but what was right; and he was sure, too, that the lady, from her love to him, and her teaching him to trust God and to pray, would not have bid him do anything that was wrong. And then an old verse his nurse taught him came into his mind,—
“Fear not to do right,Fear not the grave;But fear to do wrong,Your life to save.”
“Fear not to do right,Fear not the grave;But fear to do wrong,Your life to save.”
“Fear not to do right,
Fear not the grave;
But fear to do wrong,
Your life to save.”
All this, and much more, passed through little Eric’s mind in a minute, and so he resolved to go on, come what might. There was just one thing he saw which cheered him, and that was a white hare, sitting with her ears cocked, quite close to the lion’s den, and he wondered how she had no fear, but could not explain it at the time. On he went, but he could hardly breathe, as the thread led still nearer and nearer the den. These big eyes were glaring on him, and seemed to draw him closer and closer! There the lion was, on one side of the path, and the great precipice on the other. One step more, and he was between them. He went on until he was so near that he seemed to feel the lion’s breath, when suddenly he sprang out on him, and tried to strike him with his huge paw that would have crushed him to the dust! Eric shut his eyes, and gave himself up for lost. But the lion suddenly fell back, for he was held fast by a great iron chain, and so Eric passed in safety!
Oh! how thankful he was! and how gladly he ran downhill, the lion roaring behind him in his den. Down he ran until all was quiet again. As he pursued his journey in the beautiful green woods, something told him his greatest trial was past. He felt very peaceful and strong. And now, as he reached some noble old beech-trees, the thread fell on the grass, and he took this as a sign that he should lie down too, and so he did, grateful for the rest. He ate some of his cake that tasted so nice, and drank from a clear spring beside him, and gathered wild strawberries which grew in abundance all round him, and thus had quite a feast. He then stretched himself on his back among soft moss, and looked up through the branches of the gigantic trees, and watched with delight the sunlight speckling the emerald green leaves and brown bark with touches of silver, and, far up, the deep blue sky with white clouds reposing on it, like snowy islands on a blue ocean; and he watched the squirrels with their bushy tails, as they ran up the trees, and jumped from branch to branch, and sported among the leaves, until he fell into a sort of pleasant day-dream, and felt so happy, he hardly knew why.
As he lay here, he thought he heard in his half-waking dream a little squirrel sing a song. Was it not his own heart, now so glad because doing what was right, which was singing? This was the song which he thought he heard:—
“I’m a merry, merry squirrel;All day I leap and whirl,Through my home in the old beech-tree;If you chase me, I will runIn the shade and in the sun,But you never, never can catch me!For round a bough I’ll creep,Playing hide-and-seek so sly,Or through the leaves Bo-peep,With my little shining eye.Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!“Up and down I run and frisk,With my bushy tail to whiskAll who mope in the old beech-trees;How droll to see the owl,As I make him wink and growl,When his sleepy, sleepy head I tease!And I waken up the bat,Who flies off with a scream,For he thinks that I’m the catPouncing on him in his dream.Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!“Through all the summer longI never want a song,From my birds in the old beech-trees;I have singers all the night,And with the morning bright,Come my busy humming fat brown bees.When I’ve nothing else to do,With the nursing birds I sit,And we laugh at the cuckooA-cuckooing to her tit!Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!“When winter comes with snow,And its cruel tempests blowAll the leaves from my old beech-trees,Then beside the wren and mouseI furnish up a house,Where like a prince I live at my ease!What care I for hail or sleet,With my cosy cap and coat!And my tail upon my feet,Or wrapped about my throat!Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!”
“I’m a merry, merry squirrel;All day I leap and whirl,Through my home in the old beech-tree;If you chase me, I will runIn the shade and in the sun,But you never, never can catch me!For round a bough I’ll creep,Playing hide-and-seek so sly,Or through the leaves Bo-peep,With my little shining eye.Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!“Up and down I run and frisk,With my bushy tail to whiskAll who mope in the old beech-trees;How droll to see the owl,As I make him wink and growl,When his sleepy, sleepy head I tease!And I waken up the bat,Who flies off with a scream,For he thinks that I’m the catPouncing on him in his dream.Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!“Through all the summer longI never want a song,From my birds in the old beech-trees;I have singers all the night,And with the morning bright,Come my busy humming fat brown bees.When I’ve nothing else to do,With the nursing birds I sit,And we laugh at the cuckooA-cuckooing to her tit!Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!“When winter comes with snow,And its cruel tempests blowAll the leaves from my old beech-trees,Then beside the wren and mouseI furnish up a house,Where like a prince I live at my ease!What care I for hail or sleet,With my cosy cap and coat!And my tail upon my feet,Or wrapped about my throat!Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!”
“I’m a merry, merry squirrel;All day I leap and whirl,Through my home in the old beech-tree;If you chase me, I will runIn the shade and in the sun,But you never, never can catch me!For round a bough I’ll creep,Playing hide-and-seek so sly,Or through the leaves Bo-peep,With my little shining eye.Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!
“I’m a merry, merry squirrel;
All day I leap and whirl,
Through my home in the old beech-tree;
If you chase me, I will run
In the shade and in the sun,
But you never, never can catch me!
For round a bough I’ll creep,
Playing hide-and-seek so sly,
Or through the leaves Bo-peep,
With my little shining eye.
Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!
“Up and down I run and frisk,With my bushy tail to whiskAll who mope in the old beech-trees;How droll to see the owl,As I make him wink and growl,When his sleepy, sleepy head I tease!And I waken up the bat,Who flies off with a scream,For he thinks that I’m the catPouncing on him in his dream.Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!
“Up and down I run and frisk,
With my bushy tail to whisk
All who mope in the old beech-trees;
How droll to see the owl,
As I make him wink and growl,
When his sleepy, sleepy head I tease!
And I waken up the bat,
Who flies off with a scream,
For he thinks that I’m the cat
Pouncing on him in his dream.
Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!
“Through all the summer longI never want a song,From my birds in the old beech-trees;I have singers all the night,And with the morning bright,Come my busy humming fat brown bees.When I’ve nothing else to do,With the nursing birds I sit,And we laugh at the cuckooA-cuckooing to her tit!Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!
“Through all the summer long
I never want a song,
From my birds in the old beech-trees;
I have singers all the night,
And with the morning bright,
Come my busy humming fat brown bees.
When I’ve nothing else to do,
With the nursing birds I sit,
And we laugh at the cuckoo
A-cuckooing to her tit!
Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!
“When winter comes with snow,And its cruel tempests blowAll the leaves from my old beech-trees,Then beside the wren and mouseI furnish up a house,Where like a prince I live at my ease!What care I for hail or sleet,With my cosy cap and coat!And my tail upon my feet,Or wrapped about my throat!Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!”
“When winter comes with snow,
And its cruel tempests blow
All the leaves from my old beech-trees,
Then beside the wren and mouse
I furnish up a house,
Where like a prince I live at my ease!
What care I for hail or sleet,
With my cosy cap and coat!
And my tail upon my feet,
Or wrapped about my throat!
Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!”
As Eric opened his eyes and looked up, he saw a little squirrel with its tail curling up its back, sitting on a branch looking down upon him; and then it playfully ran away with the tail waving after it. “Farewell, happy little fellow!” said Eric; “I must do my work now, and play like you afterwards;” for now the thread again became tight, and Eric, refreshed with his rest, and hearty for his journey, stepped out bravely. He saw, at some distance beyond an open glade in the forest, a rapid river towards which he was descending, when he thought he perceived something struggling in the stream, and then heard a loud cry or scream for help, as if from one drowning. He was almost tempted to run off to his assistance without his thread, but he felt thankful that the thread became tight again, and led in the very direction from whence he heard the cries coming. So off he ran as fast as he could, and as he came to the brink of a deep, dark pool in the river, he saw the head of a boy rising above the water, as the poor little fellow tried to keep himself afloat. Now he sank—again he rose—until he suddenly sank down and did not again appear. Eric laid hold of his thread with a firm hand and leaped in over head and ears, and then rose to the surface, and with his other hand swam to where the boy had disappeared. He soon caught him, and brought him with great difficulty to the surface, which he never could have done unless the thread had supported them both above the water.
“Eric!” cried the gasping boy, opening his eyes, almost covered by his long wet hair.
“Wolf, is it you?” It was indeed poor Wolf, who lay panting on the dry land, with his hairy clothes dripping with water, and himself hardly able to speak. “Oh, tell me, Wolf, what brought you here? I am so glad to have helped you!”
After a little time, when Wolf could speak, he told him in his own way, bit by bit, how Ralph had suspected him; and how the old woman had heard him speaking as she was looking out of an upper window; and how when Ralph asked the gold belt he could not give it; and how he was obliged himself to fly; and how he had been running for his life for hours. “Now let us fly,” said Wolf; “I am quite strong again. I fear that they are in pursuit of us.”
They both went on at a quick pace, Eric having shown Wolf the thread he had asked him about the day before, and explained to him how he must never part with it, come what might. “Oh, rub-a-dub, dub!” said Wolf, squeezing the water out of his hair, as he trotted along; “I am glad to be away. Ralph would have killed me like a pig. The voice told me to run after you.” So on they went as fast as they could, when suddenly Wolf stopped, and listening with anxious face he said, “Hark! did you hear anything?”
“No,” said Eric; “what was it?”
“Hush!—listen!—there again—I hear it!”
“I think I do hear something far off like a dog’s bark,” replied Eric. “Hark!”
So they both stopped and listened, and far away they heard a deep “Bow-wow-wow-wow-o-o-o-o-o” echoing through the forest.
“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.