"What now? What?"
"Why, thinking. I cannot yet do it well at all, and I know not what will come of it, but still help must come of it."
"Huzza!" cried the Huntsman, "you're a splendid lad! Say, have you decided yet what you'll do with the big pile of money, when you've once got it in your hand?"
"No."
"Very well. No doubt you'll learn. Now, I tell you, don't fret your young life away. Have pity on your father; he is a poor man, with all his millions. Show that you're a lad who deserves to have the sun shine on him.
"Listen! mind!" he said, interrupting himself suddenly.
The black-bird was singing the melody: "Rejoice in your life." Roland and the Huntsman looked at each other, and Roland smiled.
"Just so!" cried the Huntsman. "Learn that by heart, too. Rejoice In your life, all else is silly stuff. The bird is sensible. You've done your part well." He nodded to the black-bird, which was regarding the man and the boy with a wise look, as if it knew what it had done, and was sure of applause; and turning to Roland, he continued merrily;—
"So—just so!—just so! Hold up your head, and if you need any one, call on me. You got me out of prison; that I'll never forget. Now come and be merry, as your dogs are."
He took out a loaf of bread, which Roland was to give to the dogs to eat; but Roland ate first with great zest.