en his faithful companion for years; but in vain.
So he struck the dog with his stick, breaking one of his legs. The dog
still followed; and the shepherd repeated the blow, breaking a second
leg. Finding that the dog continued to crawl after them notwithstanding
this, the men were struck with pity and took it in turns to carry the
poor animal. Arrived at the cave, they all lay down and slept for three
hundred and nine years. Assuming the genuineness of the tradition, which
perhaps rests on no very good authority, its form is obviously due to
Mohammedan influence. But the belief in this miraculous sleep is
traceable beyond Christian and Mohammedan legends into the Paganism of
classical antiquity. Pliny, writing in the first century of our era,
alludes to a story told of the Cretan poet Epimenides, who, when a boy,
fell asleep in a cave, and continued in that state for fifty-seven
years. On waking he was greatly surprised at the change in the
appearance of everything around him, as he thought he had only slept for
a few hours; and though he did not, as in the Welsh and Scottish tales,
fall into dust, still old age came upon him in as many days as the years
he had passed in slumber.[141]

Nor is it only in dancing, feasting, or sleeping that the time passes
quickly with supernatural folk. A shepherd at the foot of the Blanik,
who missed one of his flock, followed it into a cavern, whence he could
not return because the mountain closed upon him with a crash. A dwarf
came and led him into a large hall. There he saw King Wenzel sleeping
with his knights. The king awoke, and bade him stay and clean the
armour. One day--perhaps the criticism would be too carping which
inquired how he knew the day from the night--he received permission to
go, and a bag which he was told contained his reward. When he reached
the light of day, he opened the bag and found it filled with oats. In
the village all was changed, for he had been a hundred years in the
mountain, and nobody knew him. He succeeded in getting a lodging, and on
again opening his bag, lo! all the grains of oats had turned to gold
pieces and thalers, so that he was able to buy a fine house, and
speedily became the richest man in the place. This was a pleasanter fate
than that of the Tirolese peasant who followed his herd under a stone,
where they had all disappeared. He presently came into a lovely garden;
and there a lady came, and, inviting him to eat, offered to take him as