the Sow is lurking--for the murderer of a messenger is no more to be
called a Boar. Now then, Sebald! In what hamlet hereabout dwells there
a cobbler?"

"There is crooked Peter at Neufess, and Hackspann at Reichelstorf," was
the answer.

"Good; that much we needed to know," said Starch. "And now, little
one," and he gave the man another shaking, "Out with it. Did the Sow--
or, that there may be no mistake--did Eber of Wichsenstein ride away to
Neufess or to Reichelstorf? Who was to sew the tops to his shoes, Peter
or Hackspann?"

The terrified creature clasped his slender hands in sheer amazement, and
cried: "Was there ever such abounding wisdom born in the land since the
time of chaste Joseph, who interpreted Pharaoh's dreams? The man who
shall catch you asleep, my lord Captain, must rise earlier than such
miserable hunted wretches as we are. He rode to Neufess, albeit
Hackspann is the better cobbler. Reichelstorf lies hard by the highway
by which you came, my lord; and if Eber does but hear the echo of your
right glorious name, my lord Baron and potent Captain. . . ."

"And what is my name--your lord Baron and potent Captain?" Starch
thundered out.

"Yours?" said the little man unabashed. "Yours? Merciful Heaven!
Till this minute I swear I could have told you; but in such straits a
poor little tailor such as I might forget his own father's honored name!"
At this Starch laughed out and clapped the little rogue in all kindness
behind the ears, and when his men-at-arms, whom he had commanded to make