sted for the lord Baron's supper.
Where hast thou been for all this time?"

"No matter," said the boy, sullenly, as he laid the fagots ready for the
lighting; "no matter, I was not running after Long Jacob, the bowman, to
try to catch him for a sweetheart, as thou hast been doing."

The reply was instant and ready. The cook raised her hand; "smack!" she
struck and a roar from the scullion followed.

"Yes, good," thought Hans, as he looked down upon them; "I am glad that
the boy's ear was not on my head."

"Now give me no more of thy talk," said the woman, "but do the work
that thou hast been bidden." Then--"How came all this black soot here, I
should like to know?"

"How should I know?" snuffled the scullion, "mayhap thou wouldst blame
that on me also?"

"That is my doing," whispered Hans to himself; "but if they light the
fire, what then becomes of me?"

"See now," said the cook; "I go to make the cakes ready; if I come back
and find that thou hast not built the fire, I will warm thy other ear
for thee."

"So," thought Hans; "then will be my time to come down the chimney, for
there will be but one of them."

The next moment he heard the door close and knew that the cook had gone
to make the cakes ready as she said. And as he looked down he saw that
the boy was bending over the bundle of fagots, blowing the spark that
he had brought in upon the punk into a flame. The dry fagots began to
crackle and blaze. "Now is my time," said Hans to himself. Bracing his
elbows against each side of the chimney, he straightened his legs so
that he might fall clear His motions loosened little shower of soot that
fell rattling upon the fagots that were now beginning to blaze brightly,
whereupon the boy raised his face and looked up. Hans loosened his hold
upon the chimney; crash! he fell, lighting upon his feet in the midst
of the burning fagots. The scullion boy tumbled backward upon the floor,
where he lay upon the broad of his back with a face as white as
dough and eyes and mouth agape, staring speechlessly at the frightful
inky-black figure standing in the midst of the flames and smoke. Then
his scattered wits came back to him. "It is the evil one," he roared.
And thereupon, turning upon his side, he half rolled, half scrambled to
the door. Then out he leaped and, banging it to behind him, flew down
the passageway, yelling with fright and never daring once to look behind
him.

All the time One-eyed Hans was brushing away