sizzling whisper reached my ear, and I began to cry.

"Why don't you sleep?" asked the shepherd boy in his broken Yiddish.

"I am afraid!"

"What are you afraid of?"

"Of--of--the woods . . . ."

"Ha--ha--ha--I have good dogs with the flock!"

I wanted a Mezuzah, some talisman, a protection against evil
spirits, and that fool offered me barking dogs! All at once he
whistled loudly, and his dogs set up a barking that nearly made me
deaf. The flock was panic-stricken. I thought at first that the
earth had opened her mouth, and packs of dogs were breaking out from
hell.

The noise the dogs made broke the awful hush of the night, and my
fears were somewhat dispelled.

But there were other reasons why I liked to hear the dogs bark. I
was myself the owner of a dog, which I had raised on the sly in my
father's house. Imagine the horror of my brother Solomon, who as a
real Jewish lad was very much afraid of a dog!

In that way we spent a few days, hiding under the open sky,
disguised in our Shaatnez clothes. Soon enough the time came when
my parents _had_ to understand what they would not understand when