“Very well, but let us change clothes, for I do not wish to soil my uniform. Here is a crown for you. Go to the inn and buy yourself a glass of wine. When you return you will be surprised to see how much I have done.”
The exchange was made and the labourer departed. Less than half an hour afterwards the sound of hoofs was heard on the road, and looking up, the drummer saw his late host, mounted on horseback, spurring furiously towards him. The man’s face was purple with fury and he was muttering threats as to what he would do to the drummer when he caught him. He had faithfully carried out all his instructions, and had truly enough learnt the meaning of the humming noise within the drum. So had his wife; for when he went to her in the garden, he found her with her face and shoulders black with bees!
Abreast of the place where the drummer was working the peasant reined in his horse, and cried out, “Hallo, you there. Have you seen a soldier pass by this way?”
“A man, master?” mumbled the drummer.
“I said a soldier, you stupid oaf! A man in a red coat with a most villainous face. Have you seen him, I say?”
“Why, yes,” the drummer answered. “He went past here about a quarter of an hour ago and made his way into the wood yonder. You’ll never find him, master!” he added, with a grin.
IT WAS THE LABOURER DRESSED IN THE DRUMMER’S CLOTHES
“And why won’t I?”