ething more important to think about. He lay flat and kept a sharp
look-out. Were it not for his eyes, his grey shaggy head might frighten
one. In order to heighten the illusion, he gnashed with his teeth.
Anjuta played the part of the hare, sprang hither and thither, pulled at
the grasses, and waved her hands to and fro above her head, to represent
long ears. She pretended not to notice the old man.

"I don't see you. Grandfather, really I don't!"

Then the wolf sprang out of his hiding-place; the hare fled to the
stream, crossed over, and climbed the opposite bank. But the wicked wolf
came creeping nearer and nearer and seized the poor little animal by the
throat with his great jaws.

"Were you very frightened?" the old wolf asked good-humouredly.

"Not a little bit. Grandfather, why does the wolf eat hares?"

"He can't eat grass. He wants flesh--hares, dogs, fowls, little children
like you--it is all the same to him. He seizes them so, you see, and
tears them in pieces."

"Does it hurt them?" asked Anjuta.

"Oh, you stupid, stupid thing! Of course it hurts them. Death is never
pleasant."

Anjuta became very thoughtful. "Do you know, Grandfather," she said
after a pause, "we won't play that game any more. You must not be a
wolf. Wolves are wicked and you are good." "I--good? Ah, you...." Ivan
made a long pause; something seemed to stick in his throat. "For you
perhaps I may be good"--he cleared his throat violently--"You see,
Anjuta, when I was little like you, no one said a kind word to me. I was
thrashed nearly to a jelly, and always black and blue. Otherwise I would
have been good; why should I be wicked without a reason? Oh, you stupid
little thing, what do you know about it?"

"Take me on your arm," asked Anjuta, standing on tiptoe.

He awoke as out of a dream. "What do you want?"

"Take me on your arm, Grandfather. I am tired."

"First you jump about like a hare; then you want to be carried. No, stay
down there."

"Yes, yes, you will take me," she coaxed him. "When I ask, you never say
no."

"Look at the little rogue! Shall I break off a switch and whip you?
Well, come along then!"

He lifted her up and walked with her deeper into the solemn stillness of
the forest. The old man felt his heart grow warmer as the tired child's
eyelids gradually drooped, and she began to breathe regularly in his
arms. With a kind of pity he looked at the little open mouth and the
helpless dusty little legs as the