on the other side of the fence. "Who the
deuce are you bringing with you?"

"Open, forester," cried the tenant; "the new gentry are come."

"Go to the devil with your gentry; I am sick of the whole race."

The tenant looked in perplexity toward Anton. "Open the door," said the
latter, authoritatively; "it will be better for you to do of your own
accord what I can force you to do."

"Force!" said the voice. "How will you manage that, pray?" The double
barrel of a gun now made its appearance through a hole in the door,
turning conveniently to one side, then the other.

"Your gun will not help you," was the reply; "we have that on our side
which will henceforth be stronger in this forest than brute force, and
that is law and our right."

"Indeed!" asked the voice. "And who, then, are you?"

"I am the agent of the new proprietor, and command you to open the
door."

"Is your name Moses or Levi?" inquired the voice. "I will have nothing
to do with an agent. Whoever comes to me as an agent, I set down for a
rogue."

"A plague upon your hard head," cried Karl, in a towering passion. "How
dare you speak so disrespectfully of my master, you crazy Jackboots
you!"

"Jackboots!" said the voice. "I like that; that sounds more like fair
dealing than any thing I have heard for a long time." The bolts were
shot back, and the forester appeared at the door, which he shut behind
him. He was a short, broad-set man, with grizzled hair, and a long gray
beard, which hung down on his breast; a pair of keen eyes shone out of
his furrowed face; he wore a thick shaggy coat, out of which sun and
rain had expelled every trace of color, carried his double-barreled gun
in his hand, and looked defiance at the strangers. "Who is bullying
here?" said he.

"I am," answered Karl, stepping forward; "and you shall get something
besides hard words if you continue in your insubordination."

"What sort of a cap is that you wear?" asked the old man, looking hard
at him.

"Have you grown into a mere fungus here in your wood that you do not
know it?" replied Karl, settling his soldier's cap more firmly on his
head.

"Hussar?" asked the forester.

"Invalid," was the reply.

The old man pointed to a small strip of ribbon on his coat. "Militia,"
said he; "1813 and 1814."

Karl made a military salute. "All honor to you, old boy; but you are a
rough one, notwithstanding."

"Well, you are not much like an invalid," said the forester; "you look