"I say! who's there?" Then, peering down upon them, "Why, Hans! is it you?"
"Hist!" says Hans. "We've brought home your master, and laid him on the straw; and now we must be off, or day will break and we shall be seen, which will spoil all."
"Oh, what joy!" murmurs Zoppel, somewhat incoherently, as he slips on his clothes. He hastened down to Speckbacher, and they had a long talk together, before they could well see one another's faces.
"But, master," says Zoppel, "I can't think how on earth we shall manage, for Hans little guessed we have some Bavarian soldiers quartered upon us, who are lounging in and out all day, expecting you to be hanging about your home. But I know what I'll do! I'll dig a trench for you underneath where the cattle stand, but beyond the reach of their hoofs, and lay plenty of straw in it. Into this I will lift you, and then cover you well up with straw, only leaving you just room to breathe—"
"But, Zoppel, I should like to see my wife first—"
"No, no, master! no!—let her be, I advise ye. Women are soft-hearted, and she would be distressed beyond measure to see you in such a place, and would always be fidgeting about, wanting to make you more comfortable, and the soldiers would naturally ask themselves, 'Why does the woman go so often into the stable?' and so you would be found out. No, no—leave her to me, master; I'll find the right time to tell her you're safe and not far off; but if I told her how near you were, you wouldn't be safe long!"
All this while, Zoppel was digging the trench with might and main; and, as soon as it was finished, he lifted his master into it, and covered him well up: having previously given him a piece of bread and a good draught of milk. It was well he had lost no time in these proceedings; for scarcely had day dawned, when a couple of Bavarian soldiers lounged into the stable to look after their horses, and began to talk to Zoppel while he appeared to be busy cleaning some harness.
Speckbacher remained in this agreeable position seven weeks! un vivo sepolto—unable to change his position, and only taking such food as his servant could administer to him thus recumbent. But it was better than the cavern of Gemshaken—here he had bread instead of raw meat, and milk instead of snow-water: warmth instead of cold—society instead of solitude—proximity to his family instead of being beyond all ken of them—knowledge of the affairs of the world without, instead of ignorance and anxiety.
He could hear the hens cluck and the geese cackle; could look into the oxen's large, patient eyes, without fear of their betraying him; could now and then hear Maria's voice, Anderl's laugh, and the baby's cry. One day Anderl and his little sister had quite a long gossip just outside the stable, within a yard of Speckbacher's ear. At other times, he slily listened to the Bavarians; through whom, as they cleaned their horses, he learned a good deal of news that was not intended for him: among other things, that they were heartily sick of their present life.