knife and began to sharpen it.'

'Oh! dear mother, spare me!' shrieked Pinkel, falling on his knees, and
looking wildly about him.

'Spare you, indeed, you thief! Where are my lantern and my goat? No!
not! there is only one fate for robbers!' And she brandished the knife
in the air so that it glittered in the firelight.

'Then, if I must die,' said Pinkel, who, by this time, was getting
really rather frightened, 'let me at least choose the manner of my
death. I am very hungry, for I have had nothing to eat all day. Put some
poison, if you like, into the porridge, but at least let me have a good
meal before I die.'

'That is not a bad idea,' answered the woman; 'as long as you do die, it
is all one to me.' And ladling out a large bowl of porridge, she stirred
some poisonous herbs into it, and set about work that had to be done.
Then Pinkel hastily poured all the contents of the bowl into his bag,
and make a great noise with his spoon, as if he was scraping up the last
morsel.

'Poisoned or not, the porridge is excellent. I have eaten it, every
scrap; do give me some more,' said Pinkel, turning towards her.

'Well, you have a fine appetite, young man,' answered the witch;
'however, it is the last time you will ever eat it, so I will give you
another bowlful.' And rubbing in the poisonous herbs, she poured him out
half of what remained, and then went to the window to call her cat.

In an instant Pinkel again emptied the porridge into the bag, and the
next minute he rolled on the floor, twisting himself about as if in
agony, uttering loud groans the while. Suddenly he grew silent and lay
still.

'Ah! I thought a second dose of that poison would be too much for you,'
said the witch looking at him. 'I warned you what would happen if you
came back. I wish that all thieves were as dead as you! But why does not
my lazy girl bring the wood I sent her for, it will soon be too dark
for her to find her way? I suppose I must go and search for her. What a
trouble girls are!' And she went to the door to watch if there were any
signs of her daughter. But nothing could be seen of her, and heavy rain
was falling.

'It is no night for my cloak,' she muttered; 'it would be covered with
mud by the time I got back.' So she took it off her shoulders and hung
it carefully up in a cupboard in the room. After that she put on her
clogs and started to seek her daughter. Directly the last sound of the
clogs had ceased, Pinkel jumped up an