rn to our subject."

"I have nearly done now. In Kobolnyik my poor old father was seen
without his pack; in one hand he had his stick, in the other his
umbrella, with which he drove off the dogs which barked at him. So in
Kobolnyik he still had his umbrella you see."

Tears were rolling down Moricz's pock-marked face, his heart was quite
softened at the remembrance of all these incidents.

"After that we looked for a long time for traces of him, but only heard
of him again in Lehota. One stormy summer night he knocked at the door
of the watchman's house, the last in the village, but when they saw he
was a Jew, they drove him away. They told me he had neither a hat nor an
umbrella then, only the heavy, rough stick he used to beat us with when
we were children."

"Now I begin to understand the drift of your remarks. You want to show
that the umbrella was lost between Kobolnyik and Lehota."

"Yes."

"But that proves nothing, for your father may have lost it in the wood,
or among the rocks, and if any one found it, they would probably make
use of it to put in the arms of a scarecrow."

"No, that is not it, I know what happened. I heard it by chance, for I
was not looking for the umbrella; what did I care for that! I wanted to
find my father. Well, among the Kvet mountains I met a tinker walking
beside his cart, a very chatty man he seemed to be. I asked him, as I
did every one we met, if he had not seen an old Jew about there lately.
'Yes,' he answered, 'I saw him a few weeks ago in Glogova during a
downpour of rain; he was spreading an umbrella over a child on the
veranda of a small house, and when he had done so he moved on.'"

The lawyer sprang up hastily.

"Go on," he cried.

"There is nothing more to tell, sir. But from the description the tinker
gave me, I am sure it was my father, and, besides, Glogova lies just
between Lehota and Kobolnyik."

"Well, you have given me valuable information," exclaimed the lawyer,
and, taking a fifty-florin note out of his pocketbook, he added: "Accept
this as a slight return for your kindness. Good-by."

And off he went like a hound which has just found the scent; over some
palings he vaulted, in order to get to his cart as quickly as possible.
On he raced, but as he passed the gingerbread stall, Moricz Muencz stood
before him again.

"Excuse me for running after you," he exclaimed breathlessly, "but it
suddenly occurred to me that I might give you a word of advice, wh