was a man of intelligence, he arose and peered through the bushes in the
grass; he looked in the air, and he closely scanned the tops of the
trees; but his efforts were fruitless. The game was not to be found.

"It is astonishing!" said he to himself. "I can not believe it! They
must be here! But where the devil are they then!"

The trees retained a stubborn silence, and their example was followed by
the earth, the air, and the water. Although the heat of the day was
rendered still more insufferable by Mr. Fabian's thick hunting suit, yet
his flesh chilled with fear when he discovered the actual loss of his
partridges and hares.

To return home without his game, was a misfortune, which under ordinary
circumstances he could have endured; but on this occasion he had reason
to expect a more than usually severe lecture from his wife whose command
he had stubbornly disobeyed by not awakening Gottlieb. While the
unfortunate sportsman was bewailing his fate he discovered the face of
his "butler," who was peering out from between the bushes with an
expression of mingled humility and mirthfulness.

"Where are my partridges, you rascal?" shouted Mr. Fabian, his face
glowing with anger.

"Do you think, Mr. H----, that I have taken them?"

"Such a jest would be but natural. What are you doing here? Have I not
paid you enough?"

"I never do anything without orders, and if you do not wish me to