every step. The dog comforted him, encouraged him, let him ride on his back a little while tho the boy was too heavy and after a few minutes the dog's bones would crack and he would have to lie down. Deep sorrow tormented the dog, surely the servants of the rich man were somewhere in the neighborhood, determined not to return home without the boy. And even if they were not found, how far was it to the north? How will we get there if Benjamin is already too tired to go further?
Toward midnight they suddenly saw a fire burning on a meadow. People must be there. The dog dragged the boy into some thick bushes, told him to keep still, crept softly toward the fire. A pot hung over the fire, and a blond man sat before it. Close by stood a wagon with large wheels, to which a brown horse was harnessed. The dog looked at the man very searchingly. He looked different from the people at home, had a very light skin, kind blue eyes; surely he was a northerner. But was he a good man? Then the dog remembered that only very good people understand the language of animals, and the dog decided to tell him the story of little Benjamin. Carefully he came closer to the fire and said softly, "Good evening, man. Are you a northerner?"
The man looked at him in surprise, but, oh joy, he had understood the words and answered, "Good evening, my friend. Yes, I am a northerner. Do you want to eat something? My supper will soon be ready."
"I am not hungry," replied the dog. "But I want some help." And then he told the story of little Benjamin.
The blond man became red with anger and his eyes sparkled. This made the dog happy. "He is really a good man," thot he, "for only good people are angered by the sufferings of other people." When he was thru speaking, the man said, "Bring your little friend here quickly. My horse has rested enough. We will
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