a rush of unearthly whispering laughter, and mocking voices said in the
poor man's ear, "Bread and beer! bread and beer!" chorused with another
rustle of laughter; whereat the unlucky man, half crazed, would bless
himself devoutly, and, taking to his heels, run like a scared cony till
the woods were far behind him.

In the hut things went worse still; in vain did Matthias, the oldest of
the nine children, take his twin sister into the fields to search the
brambles for stray hips, or locks of wool the sheep had not left there
willingly; men and women even worse off had been there before them, and
they came home at night, tired out and footsore, only to hear Zitza's
fretful cry for food, and the constant chatter of Meister Hans, croaking
for his own share in what they had not.

One night, when Mihal had told more wonderful stories than ever, and
fairly talked the other eight to sleep, he was still awake himself.
Nothing stirred on the side of the hut where the children lay sleeping
on some straw covered with sheep-skins, but Meister Hans, who, perched
for the night on the arm of the grandmother's empty chair, rustled his
blue-black wings now and then. But as Mihal lay thinking and hungry, his
looks turned restlessly toward the uneasy bird; and presently he saw the
creature's eyes begin to shine through the darkness brighter and
brighter, till they made the room so light that one could plainly see
the eight sleeping children, the straw-bed from which Father Koenig's
snores were loudly heard, Mother Marthon's petticoat and red jacket hung
against the wall, and the old black chair with the fiery-eyed jackdaw
perched on one arm. Mihal lifted himself on his elbow and rubbed his
eyes. Yes, it was really so! Meister Hans nodded gravely to him, and,
hopping down to the floor, turned his eyes toward the boy, nodded again,
croaked circumspectly, and walked with odd, precise steps toward the
door, which was screened from the cold by a rough mat hung inside, and
again turning, repeated the nod and the croak, as if he were inviting
Mihal to follow him. The child gathered his rags more closely about him,
and stepped across the threshold, at which Meister Hans gave a very
satisfied croak and hopped along. The moon shone brightly on bare brown
fields silvered with white frost, and in the still, cold air the distant
forest stood like a black cloud just dropped upon earth.

In a strange, dreamy way Mihal followed the movements of the bir