ead, and to
wear a three cornered hat, sometimes to be quite like another squirrel,
with the exception only of having red stockings and black shoes on its
hind feet. In short it was a merry little creature, but still Peter
felt an awe, fancying that all was not right.

Peter now went away with more rapid strides than he had come. The
darkness of the forest seemed to become blacker and blacker; the trees
stood closer to each other, and he began to be so terrified that he ran
off in a trot, and only became more tranquil when he heard dogs bark at
a distance, and soon after descried the smoke of a hut through the
trees. But on coming nearer and seeing the dress of the people, he
found that having taken the contrary direction he had got to the
raftsmen instead of the glass-makers. The people living in the hut
were wood-cutters, consisting of an aged man with his son who was the
owner, and some grown up grand-children. They received Peter Munk, who
begged a night's quarter, hospitably enough without asking his name or
residence, they gave him cider to drink, and in the evening a large
black cock, the best meal in the Schwarzwald, was served up for supper.

After this meal the housewife and her daughters took their distaffs and
sat round a large pine torch, which the boys fed with the finest rosin;
the host with his guest sat smoking and looking at the women; while the
boys were busy carving wooden spoons and forks. The storm was howling
and raging through the pines in the forest without, and now and then
very heavy blasts were heard, and it was as if whole trees were
breaking off and crashing down. The fearless youths were about to run
out to witness this terrific and beautiful spectacle, but their
grandfather kept them back with a stern look and these words: "I would
not advise any of you," cried he, "to go now outside the door; by
heavens he never would return, for Michel the Dutchman is building this
night a new raft in the forest."

The younger of them looked at him with astonishment, having probably
heard before of Michel, but they now begged their grandpapa to tell
them some interesting story of him. Peter Munk who had heard but
confused stories of Michel the Dutchman on the other side of the
forest, joined in this request, asking the old man who and where he
was. "He is the lord of the forest," was the answer, "and from your
not having heard this at your age, it follows that you must be a native
of those p