“He is too big.”
“I might fit a strong spring in one end.”
But the Baron still seemed disinclined. His friend reflected, and then suddenly exclaimed—
“The village doctor keeps some chemical apparatus, I believe! You'll throw the hammer, Baron. I can manage it.”
The Baron appeared mystified by the juxtaposition of ideas, but serenely expressed himself as ready to entrust this and all other arrangements for the Hechnahoul Gathering to the ingenious Count, as some small compensation for so conspicuously outshining him.
CHAPTER XXIV
The day of the Gathering broke gray and still, and the Baron, who was no weather prophet, declared gloomily—
“It vill rain. Donnerwetter!”
A couple of hours later the sun was out, and the distant hills shimmering in the heat haze.