ng him with
scrutinizing glances.

The monk beckoned to several of the pupils, and made them acquainted with
the smith's son, then stroking Ulrich's curls again, left him alone with
the others.

On St. John's day the boys were given their liberty and allowed to play
to their hearts' content.

They took no special notice of Ulrich, and after having stared
sufficiently and exchanged a few words with him, continued their
interrupted game of trying to throw stones over the church roof.

Meantime Ulrich looked at his comrades.

There were large and small, fair and dark lads among them, but not one
with whom he could not have coped. To this point his scrutiny was first
directed.

At last he turned his attention to the game. Many of the stones, that had
been thrown, struck the slates on the roof; not one had passed over the
church. The longer the unsuccessful efforts lasted, the more evident
became the superior smile on Ulrich's lips, the faster his heart
throbbed. His eyes searched the grass, and when he had discovered a flat,
sharp-edged stone, he hurriedly stooped, pressed silently into the ranks
of the players, and bending the upper part of his body far back, summoned
all his strength, and hurled the stone in a beautiful curve high into the
air.

Forty sparkling eyes followed it, and a loud shout of joy rang out as it
vanished behind the church roof. One alone, a tall, thin, black-haired
lad, remained silent, and while the others were begging Ulrich to throw
again, searched for a stone, exerted all his power to equal the 11
"greenhorn," and almost succeeded. Ulrich now sent a second stone after
the first, and, again the cast was successful. Dark-browed Xaver
instantly seized a new missile, and the contest that now followed so
engrossed the attention of all, that they saw and heard nothing until a
deep voice, in a firm, though not unkind tone, called: "Stop, boys! No
games must be played with the church."

At these words the younger boys hastily dropped the stones they had
gathered, for the man who had shouted, was no less a personage than the
Lord Abbot himself.

Soon the lads approached to kiss the ecclesiastic's hand or sleeve, and
the stately priest, who understood how to guide those subject to him by a
glance of his dark eyes, graciously and kindly accepted the salutation.

"Grave in office, and gay in sport" was his device. Count von Frohlinger,
who had entered the garden with him, looked like one whose m