Nevertheless the peasants set forth, and, when about a hundred paces from the spot, began to adjure the monster in varying terms. But no answer was returned. Next, after halting a moment, the party advanced a little further. The man seemed still to be lying in the ditch, with his head resting against a fence, while beside him lay a satchel and a cudgel (on the latter of which was slung a pair of boots). Yet the peasants could not summon up the necessary courage to approach him or to touch him.
"Hi, friend!" they shouted—one scratching his head and another the back of his neck. "What are you doing there? Who are you? What is the matter?"
The traveller made as though to raise his head a little, but failed. Evidently he was ill or tired out. Then a peasant ventured to touch him with a pitchfork.
"Don't interfere with him, don't interfere with him!" cried the rest. "How do we know what he is, seeing that he refuses to speak? Leave him alone, friends!"
"Yes, we had better go away," added certain others. "What has he to do with us? Harm might come of him."
So all returned to the village, and told the elder men that, lying in a ditch, there
