“Nay,” said the hunter, “is it even so? Well, then; gold for gold—ducat for ducat—nay, double each ducat that old Mienckel can bestow, will I lay before you, Philip Mullerhorn.”
“Thy morning draught has been somewhat of the strongest, Adolf. Where should’st thou have met with these sums?” Chriss Mienckel chuckled portentously, and thrusting each hand into his capacious pockets, a melodious harmony of jingling coins soon resounded from their precincts.
“Look in thy pouch,” whispered Rudenfranck. Adolf did so, and drew forth two purses, richly furnished with gold. Astonishment fairly stupified the guests; and the covetous eyes of old Mullerhorn glistened at the sight of money. But the recollection of Mienckel’s broad lands and fair cattle crossed his mind.
“Gold for gold,” said he, musingly. “Well, well, it may be so; and Adolf, when thou canst certify me concerning these riches, thou shalt, perhaps, find me not altogether opposed to thee. This ceremony, for the present, with the consent of Mienckel, shall be postponed.”
Mienckel nodded his assent; for he was a man of but few words. But Adolf, holding the hand of Barbara, demanded an immediate trial.
“Be it so, then,” replied Mullerhorn. “My neighbor’s property is well known. Let it be thy task to prove thy fortune equal to his.”
“Yes,” said Mienckel, “house and farm—cattle and gear—broad lands—rich farming ground—bright ducats——”
“To balance which, I throw, as earnest, these purses,” said Adolf. “Rudenfranck, can’st thou not aid me now?” whispered he, turning to the hunter.
“Not now,” rejoined Rudenfranck, “you have the last of my gold. To-night——”
“To-night!” said Adolf, impatiently, “an age! Father Philip, I pledge myself that on the morrow I will prove myself worthy your regard in purse as well as in love.”