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- Марк Твен
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All
this
while
the
little
King
had
been
yonder
,
alternately
quaking
with
terror
and
trembling
with
hope
;
and
all
the
while
,
too
,
he
had
thrown
all
the
strength
he
could
into
his
anguished
moanings
,
constantly
expecting
them
to
reach
Hendon
's
ear
,
but
always
realising
,
with
bitterness
,
that
they
failed
,
or
at
least
made
no
impression
.
So
this
last
remark
of
his
servant
came
as
comes
a
reviving
breath
from
fresh
fields
to
the
dying
;
and
he
exerted
himself
once
more
,
and
with
all
his
energy
,
just
as
the
hermit
was
saying
--
"
Noise
?
I
heard
only
the
wind
.
"
"
Mayhap
it
was
.
Yes
,
doubtless
that
was
it
.
I
have
been
hearing
it
faintly
all
the
--
there
it
is
again
!
It
is
not
the
wind
!
What
an
odd
sound
!
Come
,
we
will
hunt
it
out
!
"
Now
the
King
's
joy
was
nearly
insupportable
.
His
tired
lungs
did
their
utmost
--
and
hopefully
,
too
--
but
the
sealed
jaws
and
the
muffling
sheepskin
sadly
crippled
the
effort
.
Then
the
poor
fellow
's
heart
sank
,
to
hear
the
hermit
say
--
"
Ah
,
it
came
from
without
--
I
think
from
the
copse
yonder
.
Come
,
I
will
lead
the
way
.
"
The
King
heard
the
two
pass
out
,
talking
;
heard
their
footsteps
die
quickly
away
--
then
he
was
alone
with
a
boding
,
brooding
,
awful
silence
.
It
seemed
an
age
till
he
heard
the
steps
and
voices
approaching
again
--
and
this
time
he
heard
an
added
sound
,
--
the
trampling
of
hoofs
,
apparently
.
Then
he
heard
Hendon
say
--
"
I
will
not
wait
longer
.
I
can
not
wait
longer
.
He
has
lost
his
way
in
this
thick
wood
.
Which
direction
took
he
?
Quick
--
point
it
out
to
me
.
"
"
He
--
but
wait
;
I
will
go
with
thee
.
"
