Though it was still only eleven o'clock, the boys were quite ready for dinner when they reached the lake; and when it was finished and they had hidden the rest of their provisions in some bushes, Herr Groos gave them leave to amuse themselves as best they chose till he sounded his horn to collect them for another meal at four o'clock. He himself was going to take charge of a botanising party on the Hersch-felsen, and a junior master was to superintend those who wished to fish in the lake; but Franz decided to join neither party, as his one idea was to catch a swallow-tailed butterfly for his friend. At last, finding no one with a similar ambition, he started on his quest alone.
'I will try the Kühberg first,' he said to himself. 'If we should meet the strangers again, it would be fun to prove to them that Herr Groos was right and they were wrong.'
It was very hot as Franz toiled up the mountain-side, and when at last he reached the place where his search was to begin, he lay down panting under some trees at the edge of the wood. On the opposite slope he could see the yellow caps of his comrades, and the tall figure of Herr Groos; but where he himself was all was solitude and silence. After a few minutes' rest he rose, and having filled his cap with some delicious berries, sat down, almost buried amongst the cool, green plants, to enjoy them. They were soon finished, but he was still too lazy to move, and rolling himself down till the cranberries nearly met above him, he fell fast asleep.
He was awakened by the sound of voices, and, thinking it was some of his schoolfellows, he lay still, meaning to surprise them. He was so well hidden that he knew he could not be discovered unless he moved. Then he realised that it was not his comrades, but the two strangers from the train.
'Look at all those boys over there,' said the tall man. 'It was fortunate that we put them off the scent. If they had chosen to spend the day up here it would have upset our plans nicely.'
'Are you sure, though, that they are all there?' asked the other, doubtfully. 'There were thirty-two in the train, and I can only count twenty-five yellow caps now.'
'You are right, Schmidt,' answered the tall man, after a short pause. 'And who can tell where the others may be?'
'Not I! We must put off our digging till we are sure that they have all gone away for the night.'
'We shall miss the American boat,' said his friend, angrily, 'and all because of a pack of schoolboys!'
'Not necessarily. If we return to Freistadt by the nine o'clock train instead of by the five o'clock, we ought still to catch the steamer at Hamburg. That is the worst of taking things from a well-known man like Rosenthal. He makes it unsafe to dispose of a single recognisable thing in Germany. We were lucky to get rid of the coins, even.'