mself about it," said the trainer,
laughing.

In the corner lay a small brown dog, that only blinked at them
occasionally. Eric remarked that it must be a fox-hound, to judge from
its appearance.

"Right, he understands dogs!" cried the screamer, turning to Roland.
"You are right! I got that fellow out of a fox-hole, and he is and
always will be an unfaithful and ungrateful beast, who is not to be
trusted; do what you will for him, he is never thankful nor
affectionate."

The dog in the corner just opened his eyes and shut them again, as if
he didn't disturb himself about the talk of men.

Roland showed Eric his ferrets, which seemed to know him as he took
them out of the cage. He pointed out a bright yellow one, as an
especially cunning, tough rascal; he had given him the name of
Buchanan. The name of the other he would not tell; it was really Knopf,
but now he only said that he called him Master of Arts, because he
always considered so long before he went into a hole, and moved his
lips as if he were delivering a lecture.

They went into the garden, and the huntsman showed Eric his bee-hives.
Turning to Roland, he said,--

"Yes, Roland, your father's flowers are good for my bees, if the poor
little creatures didn't have to fly so far down to reach your garden. I
let my cattle feed in other men's pastures, and the world hasn't yet
got so far that rich men can forbid poor men's bees to suck honey from
their flowers."

A sharp glance shot from his eyes as he said this, which expressed the
whole rankling hostility of the poor towards the rich. The keeper
complained that Sonnenkamp cherished so many nightingales, which
certainly sang beautifully, but robbed the bees of their honey, and
even ate the bees with the honey. The nightingale, which men prize so
highly, is a cruel murderer of bees.

"Yes," answered Eric, "the nightingales do not know that the bees give
honey, and we cannot blame the birds for considering them as plagues
for whose destruction men will be grateful. However, they do not eat
them altogether for our sakes but their own."

The screamer looked first at Eric, then at Roland, and nodded as if
saying, "Yes, yes, that's quite another thing."

Roland now asked how far Griffin had been broken in. The reply was,
that he would now run at the man, but he was still too wild, and his
leap not quite regular, but he was beginning to seize hold. Roland
desired to see him do it; but the day-laborer, who a