ould: "Push on, my
brave boy! I will serve you another time--only push on!"

At last they reached the end of the village. Poor Hanzli still
continued pushing his immense burden before him, panting and snorting,
while his back seemed ready to break at every step, and Vendel still
continued his words of encouragement. "That's right I push on, my
boy!--we will rest anon."

They reached the maize-ground.

Hanzli was nearly exhausted; and just as he was exerting his last
strength to roll the sisyphian burden over a little mound--while
Vendel urged him forward as usual, crying, "Push on, my lad, push out
just a little more!"--plump! the barrow turned to one side, and the
whole contents were precipitated into a muddy ditch.

"Oh! alas! I am lost! Mercy, Hanzli; save me!" cried the prostrate
Blasius.

Hanzli did his best; and after much labour, succeeded in dragging his
master out of the mud.

"But now you must get on, master, as you best can, on your own two
legs; for if you expect me to push the barrow any more, I must just
leave you here--my spine is split already; I shall never be fit for
anything."

"Don't be foolish, my lad; you surely don't mean to forsake me! Help
me at least to hide somewhere. You know very well how I always loved
you--like my own son, Hanzlikam!"

"Well then, don't be talking about it; but just get up and give me
your arm. Iai! if you are going to lean on me in that manner, master,
I won't go a step farther. Just try to move your own legs--so, so."

And by dint of threats and encouragement, Hanzli succeeded in dragging
his unhappy master through the maize till they reached a small shed,
the sides and roof of which were somewhat dilapidated by wind and
rain. Bundles of reeds, plaited together with maize stems, formed the
shed-walls, through which the flowers of the sweet hazel-nut grew up
luxuriantly; within, there was nothing but a legion of gnats.

"Am I to remain here?" asked Vendel in a voice of despair, surveying
the shed, which was almost filled when he was inside.

"Don't be afraid, master! nobody will think of looking for you here."

"But where am I to sit down?"

"Why, on the ground, master."

"St. Jeremias! that is a hard seat."

"Never mind, master; it is better than being preserved in spirits of
wine."

"But it is very cold; and then I am very hungry, too."

"Well, we can help that, master. I will go home and bring you a whole
loaf, and some bacon."

"Nothing else?