"And have you brought nothing to drink, Hanzli?"
"Yes, master, in this bottle."
"That's right! Reach it here; let me draw the cork. Oh! are you a heathen, Hanzli?—there is nothing here but water!"
"But it is quite fresh."
"Do you wish to kill me, Hanzli?" Large tears stood in poor Vendel's eyes.
"Come now, master, don't be grumbling; there is enough to eat and drink. We will hang up the bag on these cross beams, and I will make your bed. See now, you may sleep soundly there, and I will come back again to-morrow. Good night, master; shut the door after me."
And Vendel was again alone. Ay, such is human life! Man can be secure of nothing in this world; even when he lies down in a comfortable bed, there is no saying where he may awake in the morning!
Thus philosophized poor Vendel as he lay on his back on the hard earth. It was now quite dark; one or two inquisitive stars peeped through the cracks of the shed, but all was silent as death.
Vendel was just beginning to feel drowsy, when all at once he heard something or somebody speaking close to him in the German accent—indeed the sounds were quite distinct.
"Quak, quak, frakk!"