Shoes?" he cried again, and laughed as if a sudden thought had
struck him. He thrust out his foot, covered with a heavy cowhide
boot, laced high about his leg with thongs of skin.

"See here,--how a fighting man of the cross is shod! I have seen
the boots of the Bishop of Tours,--white kid, broidered with silk;
a day in the bogs would tear them to shreds. I have seen the
sandals that the monks use on the highroads,--yes, and worn them;
ten pair of them have I worn out and thrown away in a single
journey. Now I shoe my feet with the toughest hides, hard as iron;
no rock can cut them, no branches can tear them. Yet more than one
pair of these have I outworn, and many more shall I outwear ere my
journeys are ended. And I think, if God is gracious to me, that I
shall die wearing them. Better so than in a soft bed with silken
coverings. The boots of a warrior, a hunter, a woodsman,--these
are my preparation of the gospel of peace."

"Come, Gregor," he said, laying his brown hand on the youth's
shoulder, "come, wear the forester's boots with me. This is the
life to which we are called. Be strong in the Lord, a hunter of
the demons, a subduer of the wilderness, a woodsman of the faith.
Come!"

The boy's eyes sparkled. He turned to his grandmother. She shook
her head vigorously.

"Nay, father," she said, "draw not the lad away from my side with
these wild words. I need him to help me with my labours, to cheer
my old age."

"Do you need him more than the Master does?" asked Winfried; "and
will you take the wood that is fit for a bow to make a distaff?"

"But I fear for the child. Thy life is too hard for him. He will
perish with hunger in the woods."

"Once," said Winfried, smiling, "we were camped by the bank of the
river Ohru. The table was spread for the morning meal, but my
comrades cried that it was empty; the provisions were exhausted;
we must go without breakfast, and perhaps starve before we could
escape from the wilderness. While they complained, a fish-hawk
flew up from the river with flapping wings, and let fall a great
pike in the midst of the camp. There was food enough and to spare.
Never have I seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging
bread."

"But the fierce pagans of the forest," cried the abbess,--"they
may pierce the boy with their arrows, or dash out his brains with
their axes. He is but a child, too young for the dangers of
strife."

"A child in years," replied Winfried, "but a man in