For three days and three nights Ulrich had been tracking his enemy, the interloper through the forest. Now he had him in his sights and was ready to shoot when lighting struck.
Above him the tree began to topple.
When Ulrich awoke, he was trapped under the tree.
Ulrich tried to free himself; but it was in vain. He could not move.
“Aiee!” his enemy cried out. “What has happened?”
“You are in the forest where I always find you,” said Ulrich, “hunting my game.”
On seeing his predicament, his enemy laughed.
“The fates are against me,” he said. “My leg is crushed and I cannot move.”
“Indeed,” returned Ulrich, suddenly feeling compassion for his foe. “My leg is also crushed.”
“Listen,” said Ulrich, writhing in pain, “it’s useless trying to fight each other. Let’s bury our differences.”
“If we are lucky,” he went on, “we will live to fight another day.”
His enemy agreed.
“Let’s shout for help.”
They called one after the other in the hope that their men would hear them.
At length, Ulrich could make out figures in the dim light.
“I only had seven of my men with me,” he said. “How many of your men were with you?”
“No more than three or four.”
“I can see distinctly nine or ten.”
“Whose are those eyes? - ”
At that moment the boy, who was rather bored with the game, yawned and pressed the button. The wolves descended upon their prey.