aughter.

Ivo told his story, and Florian, striking the table, cried, "Hurrah for
you! Another bottle, waiter. I'll see you through, take my word for it.
But how do you expect to get to Strasbourg without a passport? Here,"
(slipping out of his blue smock,) "put that on: that will make them all
take you for a Strasbourg butcher. And," added he, laughingly taking up
the heavy belt filled with money which lay before him, "carry that on
your shoulder, and you'll be as good as one of us in earnest."

Ivo was well satisfied, and, after a hearty meal, he travelled on with
Florian in good spirits. Florian was rejoiced to find such an
opportunity of vaunting his prosperous circumstances, and of playing a
trick on the Nordstetters: besides, he was really delighted to be of
use to Ivo.

The day was hot. On the top of the Hell-Scramble they stopped for
dinner. To escape Florian's unceasing invitations to help himself from
the bottle, Ivo went into the adjoining smithy to chat with the
blacksmith, as he had been wont to do at home. Suddenly he called to
mind that this was the place and this the man with whom Nat had once
been concealed: he was on the point of asking about him, when the
blacksmith said to his boy, "There: take these two ploughshares over to
the Beste farmer."

"How far is that?" asked Ivo.

"A good mile."

"I'm going with you," said Ivo. Running into the tavern and telling
Florian that he would soon return and overtake him, he doffed his
butcher's smock and took his bugle under his arm.

As they walked down the wood-path, he heard the torrent roar and the
mills rattle; every tree seemed to stand between him and Nat. "Is the
Beste farmer a fine man?" he asked the boy.

"Oh, yes; a finer man than his brother who is dead."

"What's the Christian name of the one that's on the farm now?"

"I don't know: we always call him the Beste farmer: he's been in many
strange countries, as a serving-man and as a doctor."

Ivo fairly shouted with joy.

"Since when has he been here?" he asked, again.

"These two years. He worked for his brother a year, till he died: they
do say he did it, for he's half a wizard: he wanted to kill him many
years ago, and, as there were no children, the property came to him.
Otherwise, though, he's a very fine man."

It was painful to be told that his dear Nat was under the suspicion of
fratricide after all, as if to punish him for having once in his life
meditated the sin; but Ivo so