“I do not wish any; I am not hungry.”
Barty and Franzelie eagerly tried to divide their small portion.
“No,” she said, “there is no use; perhaps if I could see the doctor when I go to Altdorf, he would help me.”
She sank back on the little cot on which she was sitting and her eyes closed. She had fainted from weakness, but the children thought her sleeping.
“Come,” said Barty, “don’t wake Mother up. I will tell you what we will do. We will go down to Altdorf and sing our song again, and if we can get some bread or nuts we will bring them all home to mother. I think she will sleep a long time. She is so tired and her face is so white.”
Barty held his sister fast by the hand and drew her as far away as possible from the rushing brook. They sang their carol as they went through the meadows to be sure that they remembered it all, and hurried eagerly on. They reached Altdorf, not pausing till they came to the great inn with the sign of the Golden Eagle.
The western sun threw golden rays on the little grass plot before the house, and there under the trees was a long table surrounded by a large company of strange young men. They wore red caps on their heads, and their clothing was unlike what the children had seen in their own land. It was a company of students who were on a walking tour through the Alps, and they had made a long march that day.
They were eating and drinking in great glee, and the children shrank back at first startled by the loud voices, merry laughter, and wild songs.
The children stood awhile by the old tower, but when there was a short pause they began the New Year’s Song.
“Listen! Be quiet!” cried the powerful voice of the large man at the end of the table. “I hear music.”