He only
whipped up the horse and made the best speed he could, but he soon
observed that the wolves were gaining on him. The shores were desolate
and he was fourteen miles from the nearest farm. He thought that his
final hour had come, and was paralyzed with fear.
"While he sat there, terrified, he saw something move in the brush,
which had been set in the ice to mark out the road; and when he
discovered who it was that walked there, his fear grew more and more
intense.
"Wild beasts were not coming toward him, but a poor old woman, named
Finn-Malin, who was in the habit of roaming about on highways and
byways. She was a hunchback, and slightly lame, so he recognized her at
a distance.
"The old woman was walking straight toward the wolves. The sledge had
hidden them from her view, and the man comprehended at once that, if he
were to drive on without warning her, she would walk right into the jaws
of the wild beasts, and while they were rending her, he would have time
enough to get away.
"The old woman walked slowly, bent over a cane. It was plain that she
was doomed if he did not help her, but even if he were to stop and take
her into the sledge, it was by no means certain that she would be safe.
More than likely the wolves would catch up with them, and he and she and
the horse would all be killed.
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