 While we were doing this, a small boy appeared between two tufted olive trees. I cried, Ah! He's a small inhabitant of this happy land! Boy! Boy! Here runs a ray! Catch him, Hans! Catch him! I will! Boy! Come here! Come here! The boy was poorly dressed and terribly scared at our appearance. And who would blame him? Half naked with tangled hair and ragged beards, we must have looked very ill-favored in his young eyes. Hans caught up with him and dragged him back.