he old man greatly, for to him it was a kind of
applause. But the noise was too much for Martin; so he stopped up
his ears, and only removed his fingers from them when the
performance was over. After the song the old man offered to dance,
for he had not yet had amusement enough.

"Boy, can you play on this?" he shouted, holding up a frying-pan and
a big stick to beat it with. Of course Martin could play on _that_
instrument: he had often enough played on one like it to startle the
echoes on the lake, in other days. And so, when he had been lifted
on to the table, he took the frying-pan by the handle, and began
vigorously beating on it with the stick. He did not mind the noise
now since he was helping to make it. Meanwhile old Jacob began
flinging his arms and legs about in all directions, looking like a
scarecrow made to tumble about by means of springs and wires. He
pounded the clay floor with his ponderous old boots until the room
was filled with a cloud of dust; then in his excitement he kicked
over chairs, pots, kettles, and whatever came in his way, while he
kept on revolving round the table in a kind of crazy fandango.
Martin thought it fine fun, and screamed with laughter, and beat his
gong louder than ever; then to make matters worse old Jacob at
intervals uttered whoops and yells, which the dogs answered with
long howls from the door, until the din was something tremendous.

[Illustration: ]

At length they both grew tired, and then after resting and sipping
some more cold tea, prepared to go to bed. Some sheep-skins were
piled up in a corner for Martin to sleep on, and old Jacob covered
him with a horse-rug, and tucked him in very carefully. Then the kind
old man withdrew to his own bed on the opposite side of the room.

About midnight Martin was wakened by loud horrible noises in the room,
and started up on bed trembling with fear. The sounds came from the
old man's nose, and resembled a succession of blasts on a ram's horn,
which, on account of its roughness and twisted shape, makes a very
bad trumpet. As soon as Martin discovered the cause of the noise he
crept out of bed and tried to waken the old snorer by shouting at him,
tugging at his arms and legs, and finally pulling his beard. He
refused to wake. Then Martin had a bright idea, and groping his way
to the bucket of cold water standing beside the fire-place, he
managed to raise it up in his arms, and poured it over the sleeper.
The snoring changed