dis man? Oh, but he make swing de hook!"

John assented unqualifiedly to this praise of Wilhelm's strength and
skill; but nevertheless he shook his head.

"Ay, ay," he said, "I never saw his equal; but I like him not. What
carries he in his heart to be so sour? He is like a man bewitched. I
know not if there be such a thing as to be sold to the devil, as the
stories say; but if there be, on my word, I think Wilhelm has made some
such bargain. A man could not look worse if he had signed himself away."

"I see not dat he haf fear in his face," replied the old man.

"No," said John, "neither do I see fear. It is worse than fear. I would
like to see his face come alive with a fear. He gives me cold shivers
like a grave underfoot. I shall be glad when he is gone."

Farmer Weitbreck laughed. He and his son were likely to be again at
odds on the subject of a laborer.

"But he vill not go. I haf said to him to stay till Christmas, maybe
always."

John's surprise was unbounded.

"To stay! Till Christmas!" he cried. "What for? What do we need of a man
in the winter?"

"It is not dat to feed him is much, and all dat he make vid de knife is
mine. It is home he vants, no oder ting; he vork not for money."