on at the door, wakened by Musa's shouting.
"_Wass gibt_, Stoltz?" she asked. "What for was all the carry-on?"

Aaron tugged at his beard. "I don't know, woman," he admitted. "Musa the
carpenter took one look at the plowing I did today, then cursed me as
though he'd caught me spitting in his well. He got Waziri up from bed
and took him home." He took his wife's hand. "I'm sorry he woke you up,
Liebchen."

"It was not so much the angry carpenter who waked me as the little jack
rabbit you're father to," Martha said. "As you say, a _Bun_ who can kick
so hard, and barefoot, too, will be a strong one once he's born."

Aaron was staring out the window onto the dark road. "_Farwas hot Musa
sell gehuh?_" he asked himself. "What for did Musa do such a thing? He
knows that our ways are different to his. If I did aught wrong, Musa
must know it was done not for want to harm. I will go to the village
tomorrow; Musa must forgive me and explain."

"He will, Stoltz." Martha said. "_Kuum, schloef._ You'll be getting up
early."

"How can I sleep, not knowing how I have hurt my friend?" Aaron asked.

"You must," Martha urged him. "Let your cares rest for the night,
Aaron."

In the morning, Stoltzfoos prepared for his trip into Datura by donning
his Sunday-best. He clipped a black patent-leather bow tie, a wedding
gift, onto his white shirt: and fastened up his best broadfall trousers
with his dress suspenders. Over this, Aaron put his _Mutzi_, the tailed
frock coat that fastened with hooks-and-eyes. When he'd exchanged his
broad-brimmed black felt working-hat for another just the same, but
unsweated, Aaron was dressed as he'd be on his way to a House-Amish
Sunday meeting back home. "I expect no trouble here, Martha," he said,
tucking a box of stogies under his arm as a little guest-gift for the
old carpenter.

"Hurry home, Stoltz; I feel wonderful busy about the middle," Martha
said. There was a noise out on the road. "Listen!" she said. "Go look
the window out, now; someone is coming the yard in!"

Aaron hastened to lift the green roller-blind over the parlor window.
"Ach; it is the _groesie Fisch_, Sarki Kazunzumi, with half the folk
from town," he said. "Stay here, woman. I will out and talk with them."

The Sarki sat astride his white pony, staring as Aaron approached him.
Behind their chief, on lesser beasts, sat Kazunzumi's retainers, each
with a bundle in his arms. "Welcome, O Sarki!" Aaron said, raising his
fist.

Ka