Several days had now elapsed since Anton had written this letter, and, meanwhile, he had paid a daily visit to Sturm, who did not appear to change for the worse, but yet remained firm in his resolve of not outliving his birth-day. One morning a servant came to Anton's room, and announced that Sturm the porter urgently wished to see him.
"Is he worse?" inquired Anton, in dismay; "I will go to him immediately."
"He is at the door in a cart," said the servant.
Anton hurried out. A carrier's cart was standing there, with great barrel-hoops bent over the wicker-work, and covered by a white sheet, from which—a corner of it being turned back—the head of Father Sturm, ensconced in a colossal fur cap, appeared. He wore an anxious face, and, as soon as he saw Anton, held out a sheet of paper. "Read this, Mr. Wohlfart; I have had such a letter from my poor Karl! I must go to him at once. To the estate beyond Rosmin," he added to the driver, a burly carrier who stood by the vehicle.
Anton looked at the letter. It was written in the forester's clumsy characters, and the contents amazed him. "My dear father, I can not come to you, for a scythe-man has cut off the remainder of my hand, on which account I beg you, as soon as you get this, to set out to your poor son. You must take a large conveyance and drive to Rosmin. There you must stop at the Red Deer. A carriage and a servant from the estate will be waiting for you. The servant does not understand a word of German, but he is a good fellow, and will know you when he sees you. You must buy yourself a fur for the journey, and fur boots which must come above your knees, and be lined with leather. If you can't find any large enough for your great legs, godfather Kürschner must, during the night, sew a skin over your feet. Greet Mr. Wohlfart from me. Your faithful Karl."
Anton held the letter in his hand, not exactly knowing what to make of it.
"What do you say to this new misfortune?" asked the giant, mournfully.
"At all events, you must go to your son at once," was Anton's reply.
"Of course I must," said the porter; "this blow comes heavily upon me just now; the day after to-morrow I shall be fifty."
The meaning of the letter now flashed upon Anton. "Are you accoutred according to Karl's directions?"