o get
his head through the oilskin, and kicked out--the side of the reed
shed.

"Ahhaouhh!" he cried with a loud yawn, infinitely relieved at finding
himself there, instead of in the French Emperor's museum. "It was a
good thing I did not submit to _that_; a terrible job they would have
made of me, no doubt!"

Vendel then sat up, and began to think of breakfasting. He looked
about for the loaf; but no loaf was to be seen--only a few scattered
crumbs marked the place it had once occupied as a pillow.

"Well!" sighed Vendel, summoning all his philosophy; "I must eat the
bacon alone, though I shall probably be ill after it."

But Providence had taken care that Vendel should not be ill through
this means: the ham was nowhere to be found--only the empty bag lay on
the ground.

Fearful spectres floated across the waste of Vendel's brain. "Filax!"
he cried, but the poodle did not answer: there was a mine scratched
out under the reeds, by which he had probably made his escape.

Vendel burst open the door, and the first thing which met his eye was
his faithful dog quietly gnawing the bones of the bacon.

"Alas, alas! I am lost!" cried Vendel, falling on his back in utter
despair.

Fortunately, some secret misgiving induced the faithful Hanzli to
return about noon with a fresh transport of provisions, otherwise the
poor brewer, like King Eu---- (the tartar knows what comes next!),
might have been tempted to eat himself up.

"Hanzli, my son! take away the dog, and bring a cat instead; the mice
have eaten all my bread, and the dog has carried off the bacon. But
what of the hussars, Hanzli?"

"Oh! they are already beyond the frontiers; they made a great noise
till early in the morning, when they mounted their horses and galloped
off. Since then, they have probably been in battle."

"And Mistress Vicza?"

"They have not carried her off," replied Hanzli with a bitter sigh.
"She is going on in a terrible way, looking for you everywhere. She
thinks you are after no good, and promises that you shall smart for it
when you return."

"Utcza! I am between two fires!" thought poor Vendel. "On one side the
French Emperor, on the other my wife: one wants to have me under a
glass, the other under her thumb!"

"But keep yourself well hid, for the enemy is approaching," continued
Hanzli. "All the gentlemen of the town are hiding their effects under
the beams and in the cellars, and their wives are cooking and baking
all sorts o