Munich was reached, and August, hot and cold by turns, and shaking
like a little aspen leaf, felt himself once more carried out on
the shoulders of men, rolled along on a truck, and finally set
down, where he knew not, only he knew he was thirsty--so thirsty!
If only he could have reached his hand out and scooped up a little
snow!

He thought he had been moved on this truck many miles, but in
truth the stove had been only taken from the railway station to a
shop in the Marienplatz. Fortunately, the stove was always set
upright on its four gilded feet, an injunction to that effect
having been affixed to its written label, and on its gilded feet
it stood now in the small dark curiosity shop of one Hans Rhilfer.

"I shall not unpack it till Anton comes," he heard a man's voice
say; and then he heard a key grate in a lock, and by the unbroken
stillness that ensued he concluded he was alone, and ventured to
peep through the straw and hay. What he saw was a small square
room filled with pots and pans, pictures, carvings, old blue jugs,
old steel armor, shields, daggers, Chinese idols, Vienna china,
Turkish rugs, and all the art lumber and fabricated rubbish of a
bric-a-brac dealer's. It seemed a wonderful place to him; but, oh!
was there one drop of water in it all? That was his single
thought; for his tongue was parching, and his throat felt on fire,
and his chest began to be dry and choked as with dust.

There was not a drop of water, but there was a lattice window
grated, and beyond the window was a wide stone ledge covered with
snow. August cast one look at the locked door, darted out of his
hiding-place, ran and opened the window, crammed the snow into his