Carl thanked her, and entered. The low-
roofed kitchen, so like Elsen's house, did not
surprise him; for most rooms were built thus
at that time. The girl spread a white cloth,
gave him some cold meat and bread, and
brought him some water to wash; but, while
he was eating she asked him many questions,
concerning whence he came, and where he had
been. She had never heard of Stromthal, for
she knew nothing of the country beyond the
"Himmelgebirge." When her father came
in, Carl saw that he was much older than
Jacob Elsen.

"And so you want employment?" said the
father.

Carl bowed, standing with his cap in his
hand.

"Follow me!" The old man led the way
into the workshop— through the door of
which, at the bottom, Carl saw the river—and
putting the tools into Carl's hand, bade him
continue the work of a half-finished tun.
Carl handled his tools so skilfully, that the
old man knew him at once to be a good
workman, and offered him better wages than
he had ever got before. Carl remained here
until his three years had expired. One day
he said to Bertha Schönfuss (his master's
daughter), "My time is up now, Bertha;
to-morrow I set out for my home."

"I will pray for a happy journey for you,"
said Bertha; "and that you may find joy
at home."

"Look you, Bertha," said Carl; "I have
seventy gold gulden, which I have saved.
Without these, I could not have gone home,
or married my Margaret, of whom I have
told you; and, but for you, I should not have
had them. Ought I not to remember you
gratefully, while I live?"

"And come back to see us one day ?" said
Bertha. "Of course you ought."

"I surely will," said Carl, tying his money
in the corner of a handkerchief.

"Stay!" cried Bertha. "There is danger in
carrying much money in these parts. The
roads are infested with robbers."

"I will make a box for the money," said
Carl.

"No; put them in the hollow handle of
one of your tools. It is natural for a workman
to carry tools. No one will think of
looking there."

"No handle would hold them," replied Carl.
"I will make a hollow mallet, and put them
in the body of it."

"A good thought," said Bertha.

Carl worked the next day, and made a large
mallet, in which he plugged a hole; letting in
fifty gold pieces, he retained the remainder
of his treasure to expend on his journey, and
to buy clothes and other things; for he
could afford to be extravagant now. When
everything was ready, he hired a boat to
travel down the river, a portion of his journey.
The old man bade him farewell affectionately,
at the landing-place of his own workshop;
and Carl kissed Bertha, and Bertha bade him
take care of his mallet.

The boy who rowed the boat, was the ugliest
boy that could possibly be. He was very
short in the legs, and very broad in the chest,
and he had scarcely any neck; but his face
was large and round, and he had two small
twinkling eyes. His hair was black and
straight; and his arms were long, like the
arms of an ape. Carl did not like the look
of him when he hired the boat, and was
about to choose another from the crowd of
boatmen at the landing-place, when he thought
how unjust it was to refuse to give the boy
work on account of his ugliness, and so turned
back and hired him.

Carl sat at the stern, and the boy rowed,
bending forward until his face nearly touched
his feet, and then throwing himself almost
flat upon his back, and taking such pulls
with his long arms, that the boat flew onward
like a crow. Carl did not rebuke him, for
he was too anxious to get home. But the
boy grew bolder from his license. He made
horrible grimaces when he passed other
boats, tempting the rowers to throw things
at him. He raised his oars sometimes, and
struck at a fish playing on the surface; and,
each time, Carl saw the dead fish lying on its
back on the top of the water. Carl
commanded the horrible boy to row on and be
quiet— but he replied in an uncouth dialect
which Carl could scarcely understand; and
a moment after began his tricks again. Once,
Carl saw him, to his astonishment, spring from
his seat, and run along the narrow gunwale
of the boat; but his naked feet clung to the
edge, as if he had been web-footed.

"Sit to your oars, Monkey!" cried Carl,
striking him a light blow.

The boy sat down sullenly and rowed on,
playing no more tricks that day. Carl sang
one of the songs about the "Klar;" and the
boat continued its way— through meadows,
where the banks were lined with bulrushes,
and often round little islands— till the dusk
came down from Heaven. The river-surface
glimmered with a faint white light. The trees
upon the bank grew blacker, and the stars
spread westward. Carl watched the fish,
making circles on the stream, and let his hand
fall over the side to feel the water rippling
through his fingers as the boat went on. But
growing weary after awhile, he wrapped himself
in his cloak, and placing his mallet beside
him, lay down in the stern, and fell asleep.
The town where they were to stop that night,
was further off than they had thought it. Carl
slept a long time and dreamed. But, in his
sleep, he heard a noise close to his head, like
a splash in the water, and awoke. He thought,
at first, that the boy had fallen in the river;
but he saw him standing up, midway, in the
boat.

"What is the matter?" said Carl.

"I have dropped your hammer in the
stream." said the boy.