“The man stared at me, and took up his pipe again. ‘Do you reside here?’ he said at last.
“‘Three miles off. I am the host of the Sun at ——, of whom perhaps you have heard.’
“The man sprung up as if possessed. ‘The poacher Wolf,’ he cried hastily.
“‘The same!’
“‘Welcome, comrade, welcome!’ cried he, and shook my hands violently. ‘That is brave, that I have you at last, mine host of the Sun. Day and night have I been thinking how to get you. I know you well. I know all. I have reckoned on you long ago.’
“‘Reckoned on me! For what?’
“‘The whole country round is full of you. You have enemies! A bailiff has oppressed you, Wolf! They have ruined you, and the wrongs you have suffered cry aloud to Heaven.’
“The man became warm. ‘Because you have shot a few hogs, which the prince feeds in our fields they have dragged you about for years in the house of correction and the fortification, they have robbed you of your house and business and made you a beggar. Has it come to this, brother, that a man is worth no more than a hare? Are we not better than brutes of the field? And a fellow like you could suffer that?’
“‘Could I alter it?’
“‘That we shall see. But tell me, whence do you come, and what do you purpose?’