messengers of evil and there are messengers of good. Now that rascal
Knapwurst, he is a sure messenger of ill. If ever I meet him as I am
going out hunting I am sure of some misadventure; my gun misses fire, or
I sprain my ankle, or a dog gets ripped up!--all sorts of mischief come.
So, being quite aware of this, I always try and set off at early
daybreak, before that author of mischief, who sleeps like a dormouse, has
opened his eyes; or else I slip out by a back way by the postern gate.
Don't you see?"

"I understand you very well, but your ideas seem to me very strange,
Gideon."

"You, Fritz," he went on, without noticing my interruption, "you are
a most excellent lad; Heaven has covered your head with innumerable
blessings; just one glance at your jolly countenance, your frank, clear
eyes, your good-natured smile, is enough to make any one happy. You
positively bring good luck with you. I have always said so, and now would
you like to have a proof?"

"Yes, indeed I should. It would be worth while to know how much there is
in me without my having any knowledge of it."

"Well," said he, grasping my wrist, "look down there!"

He pointed to a hillock at a couple of gunshots from the castle.

"Do you see there a rock half-buried in the snow, with a ragged bush by
its side?"

"Quite well."