art's hat,
Though she lies in the lake;
And since she's drowned, another love
Right gladly will he take,"

sang Thomas, with heavy voice, while he threw the hat up into the air
and caught it again.

The gend'arme wanted to give Thomas a beating; Baum restrained him,
however, and then walked up to Thomas and placed his hand upon his
shoulder. Thomas started, but suddenly grew quiet, and looked at Baum
as if afraid of him. Baum spoke to him with a condescending air, and
Thomas listened, with mouth agape, as if trying to recollect something,
he knew not what. The voice, and the hand upon his shoulder, made quite
another man of him, and the savage, murderous fellow wept.

"Will you give me the hat for a gold piece, or must it be taken from
you by force? You see we're two to one, and can master you," said Baum.

Without saying a word, Thomas handed him the hat, and when Baum gave
him the gold piece, Thomas could not close his hand on it. As if quite
bewildered, he looked now at the gold piece, now at the giver.

Baum spoke to him earnestly, and told him that he ought to give some of
the money to his mother, if he still had one.

"A mother?" stammered Thomas, looking at Baum with a glassy eye. "A
mother!" he repeated, as if reminded of something long forgotten.

The gend'arme was touched by the lackey's generosity. "He must be a
very fine man," thought he.

Thomas again told them that Irma had been at their hut the night
before, and that his mother knew more about her than he did, for she
had been alone with her. Baum and the gend'arme said they would like to
talk with his mother, and Thomas guided them to the hut.

On the way there, the gend'arme informed Baum of Thomas's family
history. "You see, the fellow's a brawler, and has often been convicted
of poaching. I've often advised him to emigrate to America, for there
he can hunt as much as he pleases. He has a brother in America--a twin
brother, but he must be a good-for-nothing fellow; that is, if he isn't
dead. He's never yet written a line to his mother or his brother, and
has never sent home as much as you could put in your eye. But that's
the way they all become, after they get to America. A good many have
gone there from my place, but they're all selfish, good-for-nothing
fellows."

Baum smiled. He had need of all his self-command. He scarcely spoke a
word, for he was nerving himself for the meeting