The child led the way, and an hour's fast walking brought them within earshot of the rifles, the continual report of which showed that the engagement had begun. It was a severe and fatal one; but the loss was almost entirely on the side of the enemy, who were triumphantly defeated. Little Anderl again hovered about, to see the issue of the fight. He was now a regular and accredited messenger among the Tyrolese, and was allowed by his mother to go forth and bring her tidings of his father, on condition of his keeping as much out of danger as he could reasonably be expected to do. On the present occasion, he had climbed a tree at some distance, and out of the direction of the firing, from whence he got a good general idea of the success of the engagement, without being close enough to see the dreadful features of its details. He now slid down from his perch, but, instead of pursuing his father, paused when he had run a little way; and after watching the retiring foemen till they disappeared, prepared to run home and tell his mother. A squall of wind and rain had come on, and a flock of sheep rushed wildly past him. Just then, he heard a groan close by him; and, looking round, saw a Bavarian soldier who had been shot down among the long coarse grass and underwood. The poor young fellow did not look above twenty; he had a boyish, simple face; his leg was bleeding fast, and he had turned very white. "Even such a little boy as I am could kill that Bavarian," thought Anderl; "but I could not have the heart to do it, even if the Sandwirth had not said we must never hit a man when he is down.--Are you in much pain?" said he, approaching him with pity. "I'm bleeding to death, I think," said the Bavarian; "will you help me, you little chap? or are you going to hurt me?" "Oh, no! Shall I tie up your leg with your handkerchief? Mother would do it better, but I won't hurt you, if I can help it." "Thanks, thanks! Oh, get me some water!" Anderl knew where there was a spring, and he ran and brought some in his hat. "It is raining very hard," said he, "and there is shelter not far off: do you think you can crawl to it?" "Well, I'll try--it's so forlorn to be left to die here. You're not taking me to people that will knock me on the head?" added he quickly. "Oh, no! Not to any people at all, only to a shepherd's deserted hut scooped out of the rock. Edge yourself along this way, on your elbow and the side that isn't bleeding. I know it will hurt you, but you mustn't mind that." Following the advice and guidance of the humane little boy, the young Bavarian, with a good deal of wincing, and some additional effusion of blood, wormed himself along to the rude little cavity which Anderl had dignified by the name of a hut. It contained, however, a rough bed of fir branches, a stool and table of rude construction, and a little hidden store of rye-cakes and cheese.