over this
and that, but found nothing to the purpose. The squirrel was to be seen
on the lower branches of the tree, and acted as if it were either
trying to cheer him up or was making sport of him. It smoothed down its
fur, waved its fine bushy tail, and looked at him with intelligent
eyes. But at last he was afraid to remain here alone with this little
creature; for now the squirrel would appear to have a human head and a
three-peaked hat, and then again it would be just like other squirrels,
with the exception of red stockings and black shoes on its hinder legs.
In short, it was a merry creature; but nevertheless Charcoal Pete stood
in dread of it, believing that there was some magic in all this.
Peter left the spot at a much faster pace than he had approached it.
The shadows of the pine wood seemed to deepen, the trees to be taller,
and such terror took possession of him that he broke into a run, and
experienced a sense of security only when he heard dogs barking in the
distance, and saw between the trees the smoke rising from a hut. But
when he came nearer, and perceived the dress worn by the people in the
hut, he found that in his alarm he had taken the wrong direction, and
instead of arriving among the glass-makers, he had come to the
raftsmen. The people who dwelt in the hut were wood-choppers; an old
man, his son, who was the owner of the house, and some grandchildren.
They gave Charcoal Pete a hospitable reception, without asking for his
name and residence; brought him cider to drink, and for supper a large
blackcock, the most tempting dish in the Black Forest, was set on the
table.
After supper the housewife and her daughters gathered, with their
distaffs, around the light which the children fed with the finest
resin; the grandfather, the guest, and the master of the house smoked
and looked at the busy fingers of the women, while the boys were
occupied in cutting out wooden forks and spoons. Out in the forest a
storm was raging; one heard every now and then heavy peals of thunder,
and often it sounded as though entire trees had been snapped off and
crushed together. The fearless children wanted to go out into the
forest to view this wild and beautiful scene; but their grandfather
restrained them by a sharp word and look. "I would not advise any one
to go outside the door," exclaimed he; "he would never come back again,
for Dutch Michel is cutting a fresh link of logs to-night."
The children all stared
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