"Is there any one here who can make a signal?" asked Edward. The stocking weaver drew his horn from under his cloak. The instrument did not shine brighter in the torchlight than the face of the stocking weaver, who had suddenly become so important a personage.
"Good! keep close to me. According to my ideas this is the best plan: the bugler is to go with me to the Reitersberg, where we will light a fire, and then let all disperse two and two; not one alone. Whoever finds Joseph, must either bring him to us on the Reitersberg, or at least any tidings of him. Three loud long blasts of the horn will be heard at intervals, so long as Joseph is not found; but as soon as we find him, three short notes will be sounded, and continued till we are all reassembled. But what would be still better; I have my gun with me, are there any others in the village?"
"Certainly there are."
"Then go and fetch several, and when Joseph is found, we will fire three consecutive shots. If we were not to do that, very possibly some of your good people might still be running about in the snow and cold, long after Joseph was found."
"He is right—a capital notion! Just like the brother of our Frau Pastorin."
The young farmer smiled, and continued: "One thing more: we have coverlets and mattrasses with us. Is there any dog in the village that knows Joseph?"
"They all know him, and love him. You know Joseph, don't you, Blitz?" said Häspele to a large dog at his heels.
The huge yellow dog answered by a loud bark, and a wag of his tail.
"Very well," exclaimed Edward, "let loose the dogs then."
"And we will hang lanterns round their necks, and round our own the bells of the cows, and those of our teams."