"One cannot give battle there, nor camp," Erick interrupted.
"That makes no difference," Churi continued, "you listen to what I tell you. You have to go through the vineyard and not make a bit of noise, do you hear? And not run away, else—" Churi lifted his fist threateningly. "You must not tell anyone where we are going, do you hear?"
"I am not going," said Erick.
"Then go to the auction—that is the best thing for you; I am going now, good night."
But Churi nevertheless remained. The blood again rushed into Erick's cheeks. He hesitated a moment, then he asked: "If I go with you, are you sure that I can get there, where I deliver letters?"
"Of course you can," Churi grumbled.
"Then I will go."
"Give me your hand on it!"
Churi held out his hand and Erick laid his in it. Churi kept hold of the hand. "Promise that you will be there under the apple tree on the meadow at seven o'clock Sunday morning."
"I promise," said Erick.