Hanzli was nearly exhausted; and just as he was exerting his last strength to roll the sisyphian burden over a little mound--while Vendel urged him forward as usual, crying, "Push on, my lad, push out just a little more!"--plump! the barrow turned to one side, and the whole contents were precipitated into a muddy ditch.
"Oh! alas! I am lost! Mercy, Hanzli; save me!" cried the prostrate Blasius.
Hanzli did his best; and after much labour, succeeded in dragging his master out of the mud.
"But now you must get on, master, as you best can, on your own two legs; for if you expect me to push the barrow any more, I must just leave you here--my spine is split already; I shall never be fit for anything."
"Don't be foolish, my lad; you surely don't mean to forsake me! Help me at least to hide somewhere. You know very well how I always loved you--like my own son, Hanzlikam!"
"Well then, don't be talking about it; but just get up and give me your arm. Iai! if you are going to lean on me in that manner, master, I won't go a step farther. Just try to move your own legs--so, so."
And by dint of threats and encouragement, Hanzli succeeded in dragging his unhappy master through the maize till they reached a small shed, the sides and roof of which were somewhat dilapidated by wind and rain. Bundles of reeds, plaited together with maize stems, formed the shed-walls, through which the flowers of the sweet hazel-nut grew up luxuriantly; within, there was nothing but a legion of gnats.
"Am I to remain here?" asked Vendel in a voice of despair, surveying the shed, which was almost filled when he was inside.
"Don't be afraid, master! nobody will think of looking for you here."
"Never mind, master; it is better than being preserved in spirits of wine."
"But it is very cold; and then I am very hungry, too."
"Well, we can help that, master. I will go home and bring you a whole loaf, and some bacon."
"Nothing else? You surely do not wish me to starve, Hanzli?"
"I do not wish that, master; but indeed you must try and get down a little, at least half a hundredweight, unless you intend to spend your life here in eternal concealment."
Vendel looked round in dismay. "Very well, my son, very well--that is, I mean, very bad, very bad; but it can't be helped. Bring my dog, Hanzli, that I may have something to speak to at least when I am alone, and to take care of me."