It was the house of Ursus the child had come to. Homo had been growling,
Ursus speaking.
The child made out near the stove an elderly man, who, as he stood,
reached the roof of the caravan.
"Come in! Put down your bundle!" said Ursus. "How wet you are, and half
frozen! Take off those rags, you young villain!"
He tore off the boy's rags, clothed him in a man's shirt and a knitted
jacket, rubbed the boy's limbs and feet with a woollen rag, found there
was nothing frost-bitten, and gave him his own scanty supper to eat.
"I have worked all day and far into the night on an empty stomach,"
muttered Ursus, "and now this dreadful boy swallows up my food. However,
it's all one. He shall have the bread, the potato, and the bacon, but I
will have the milk."
Just then the infant began to wail. Ursus fed it with the milk by means
of a small bottle, took off the tatters in which it was wrapped, and
swathed it in a large piece of dry, clean linen.
When the boy had finished his supper, Ursus asked him who he was, but he
could get no answer save that he had been abandoned that night.
"But you must have relations, since you have this baby sister."
"It is not my sister; it is a baby that I found."
Ursus listened to the boy's story. Then he brought out an old bearskin,
laid it on a chest, placed the sleeping infant on this, and told the boy
to lie down beside the baby. Ursus rolled the bearskin over the
children, tucked it under their feet, and went out into the night to see
if the woman could be saved.
He returned at dawn; his efforts had been fruitless. The boy had
awakened at hearing Ursus, and for the first time the latter saw his
face.
"What are you laughing at? You are frightful! Who did that to you?" said
Ursus.