time, and the artist now cared for him as kindly as if he were the lad's
own father.

Magister Sutor ordered the roast meats, and his companion Stubenrauch
all the other requisites for a substantial meal, in which they had made
considerable progress, while the artist was still engaged in ministering
to the sick lad, in which kindly office the little man, who had been
hidden under the straw in the wagon, stoutly assisted.

He had been a buffoon, and his dress still bore many tokens of his former
profession. His big head swayed upon his thin neck; his droll, though
emaciated features constantly changed their expression, and even when he
was not coughing, his mouth was continually in motion.

As soon as Ulrich breathed calmly and regularly, he searched his
clothing to find some clue to his residence, but everything he discovered
in the lad's pockets only led to more and more amusing and startling
conjectures, for nothing can contain a greater variety of objects than
a school-boy's pockets, if we except a school-girl's.

There was a scrap of paper with a Latin exercise bristling with errors,
a smooth stone, a shabby, notched knife, a bit of chalk for drawing, an
iron arrow-head, a broken hobnail, and a falconer's glove, which Count
Lips had given his comrade. The ring the doctor's wife had bestowed as
a farewell token, was also discovered around his neck.

All these things led Pellicanus--so the jester was named--to make many a
conjecture, and he left none untried.

As a mosaic picture is formed from stones, he by a hundred signs,