As he progressed with his story she ceased eating and stared at him. “Why, this is a very miracle,” she said. “As soon as Pan Andrew has finished with the good father in the next room, we will go straight about procuring the lodging of which the scholar told you. . . . And the poor child—she lost her father and mother in the plague? Indeed, I think that God must have sent us to her.”
Jan Kanty at the farther end of the cell listened to Pan Andrew’s tale to the very end. He asked a few questions which the other answered and then the two began to converse rapidly though in low tones.
At length Jan Kanty passed his hand across his eyes as if thinking very deeply. Then he said, “It seems to me that there is one course open to you. You have enemies in the city, you believe, and therefore you must remain for the present unseen. I advise a change of name, for such subterfuge is no sin where the end to be gained is righteous. For your present needs you can obtain money by selling your horses and cart; if you wish I will send a man with them to the horse market in the plain below the Wawel. They would be but an encumbrance to you at best, and moreover they will bring a pretty price since they are of good stock and well fed.”
“This money will not last me forever,” said Pan Andrew. “I must think of some employment besides.”
“I have thought of that,” continued Jan Kanty. “I know of employment which might suit your case even though it be a humble task.”
“It cannot be too humble for me,” answered the other quickly, “provided it brings enough return for the support of my wife and boy.”
“Good! Excellent!” exclaimed the scholar. “Then I have just the thing. You were a hunter in the old days, I presume?”
“Why, yes,” said Pan Andrew, wondering.
“And you can sound the horn?”
“That I can. And if I do say it, with more skill than any hunter in the Eastern Marches.”