ard
the wounded man, who was lying on the bench behind the table. Kitty
alone came forward, and said, "Jake, for God's sake, help Hansgeorge!"
The latter opened his eyes and turned his head toward the speaker, and
when Jake stood before him, mumbling as he touched his hand, the blood
ceased running.

This time, however, it was not Jake's witchcraft which produced the
result, but another kind of magic. Hansgeorge no sooner heard Kitty's
words than he felt all the blood rush to his heart, and of course the
hemorrhage ceased.

[Illustration: Hansgeorge called for his pipe.]

Dr. Erath came and amputated the finger. Hansgeorge bore the cruel pain
like a hero. As he lay in a fever for hours after, he seemed to see an
angel hovering over him and fanning him. He did not know that Kitty was
driving the flies away, often bringing her hand very near his face:
such neighborhood of a loving hand, even though there be no actual
touch, has marvellous effects, and may well have fashioned the dream in
his wandering brain. Then again he saw a veiled figure: he could never
recall exactly how she looked; but--so curious are our dreams--it had a
finger in its mouth, and smoked tobacco with it, as if it were a pipe:
the blue whiffs rose up from rings of fire.

Kitty observed that the closed lips of Hansgeorge moved in his sleep.
When he awoke, the first thing he called for was his pipe. He had the
finest pipe in the village; and we must regard it more closely, as it
is destined to play an important part in this history. The head was of
Ulm manufacture, marbleized so that you might fancy the strangest
figures by looking at it. The lid was of silver, shaped like a helmet,
and so bright that you could see your face in it, and that twice
over,--once upside-down and once right side up. At the lower edge also,
as well as at the stock, the head was tipped with silver. A double
silver chain served as the cord, and secured the short stem as well as
the long, crooked, many-jointed mouthpiece. Was not that a splendid
pipe?

"And who shall dare
To chide him for loving his pipe so fair,"

even as an ancient hero loved his shield?

What vexed Hansgeorge most in the loss of his finger was, that he could
not fill his pipe without difficulty. Kitty laughed, and scolded him
for his bad taste; but she filled his pipe nevertheless, took a coal
from the fire to light it, and even drew a puff or two herself