rest until he had made it leap over the object of its terror. As
it did so, one of its hind hoofs touched the lid of the truck and threw
it back. The soldier turned in mid-career, saw the form of the
apprentice, drew a pistol from his holster like lightning, and fired at
him where he lay. At the report and flash the youth started up, and
the bullet passed close by his hand, grazing the skin, and lodged in
the side of the truck. Fortunately for him, the report of the pistol
had such a startling effect on the already frightened horse, that the
rider could no longer restrain it, and rode off at full speed after his
comrades, leaving the apprentice to pursue his way to Erbisdorf in
peace. On reaching the village, he directed his steps towards the
mill, where he was received by a slender, pale little woman, not at all
like the miller's wife he expected to see, for he had pictured the
heroine of his story as a tall, strong woman, with a loud voice and
great muscular arms. He soon found out his mistake, however, for at
sight of the sorrowful burden he had brought, she cried out, 'What!
must I lay my little Georgie to rest in such a thing as that? Why, my
husband need not have sent to Freiberg for it. We could have made a
prettier resting-place ourselves for my little son, and'--

'Please have patience,' interrupted the apprentice, 'and do not despise
our work before you have examined it. But first, would you be so good
as to give me a bit of sopped bread to tie on my hand; it begins to
burn and smart pretty badly. Just look, Mistress Miller, there's a
Swedish dragoon's bullet in the side of the truck; if you would lend me
a chisel or a pair of pincers, I could get it out, and take it home in
my pocket.'

While the woman was gone to fetch what he had asked for, Conrad carried
the little coffin into the house.

'I know one thing,' he said to the miller's wife when she returned,
'our senior journeyman must be a very smart man; I should think he can
almost hear the grass grow. If he had not been, my last hour would
have come today. "Conrad Schmidt," he said to me before I
started,--"Conrad Schmidt, in these days we must mind what we are
about. You will perhaps meet some soldiers on the way to Erbisdorf,
and if you do, I will tell you how to escape." If he had not told me
what to do, they would have killed me to a certainty. But where is the
poor little boy?'

The miller's wife stepped across to a corner of the r