whereupon they unanimously elected him a member of the coterie, waiving
for this one occasion the rule which forbade the choice of any but a
metal-worker. When the stranger accepted the election, he was informed
that it was the duty of each member to come to the aid of his brethren
when required, and they therefore requested him to teach them
swordsmanship. Roland, laughing, seeing how he had been trapped, as it
were, with his own consent, acceded to the universal wish, and before a
year had passed his twenty comrades were probably the leading swordsmen
in the city of Frankfort.

Shortly after the disaster to the merchants' fleet at the Lorely, Roland
disappeared without a word of farewell to those who had come to think so
much of him. He had been extremely reticent regarding his profession, if
he had one, and no one knew where he lodged. It was feared that the
authorities had arrested him with the sword in his possession, for he
grew more reckless than any of the others in carrying the weapon. One
night, however, he reappeared, and took his seat at the head of the
table as if nothing had happened. Evidently he had traveled far and on
foot, for his clothes were dusty and the worse for wear. He refused to
give any account of himself, but admitted that he was hungry, thirsty,
and in need of money.

His hunger and thirst were speedily satisfied, but the money scarcity
was not so easily remedied. All the score were out of employment, with
the exception of the three sword makers, whose trade the uncertainty of
the times augmented rather than diminished. To cheer up Roland, who was
a young fellow of unquenchable geniality, they elected him to the empty
honor of being their leader, Kurzbold's term of office having ended.

The guild met every night now, instead of once a week, and it may be