"Truly," said Barat, "no man's fingers are nimbler than yours, and if you can only return the eggs to the nest, why I will own freely that you are the most cunning thief of us all."
"Certes," answered Haimet, "they shall be set again beneath the bird, and not a shell of them all shall be broken."
So he came again to the oak, and mounted swiftly into the tree, hand over hand. Now he had gone but a little way when Barat hastened to the tree, and climbed therein even more lightly and surely than his brother. He followed him secretly from branch to branch, for Haimet was intent upon his task, and gave no thought to those he had left below. Then, whilst Haimet returned the eggs to the rifled nest, he stole the very breeches from his legs, and forthwith descended to the ground. When Travers saw this he was sick at heart, because he knew well he might never do such feats as these. Presently Haimet came down to his companions, and said—
"Friends, how seems it to you? Fingers like mine should pick up a good living."
"I know not how it looks to me," answered Barat. "Your fingers are quick enough, but your brains must be very dull, since they cannot procure you even hosen for your legs."
"Yes, truly, I have hosen, and those altogether new, for it was but the other day I laid hands upon the cloth, and they reach to my very ankles."
"Are they so long as that?" said Barat; "shew them to us, and hide them not away."
Then Haimet lifted his tunic and stared upon his legs, for he was without breeches.
"Lord!" said he, "how can this have chanced? Where, then, are my hosen?"