swim after the
umbrella, the old boatman shouting after him:

"You're a fool, Janko; come back, don't exert yourself for nothing."

Gregorics, afraid the warning would take effect, flew at the old man and
seized hold of his tie.

"Hold your tongue or I'll murder you. Do you want to ruin me?"

"Well, what would that matter? Do you want to throttle me? Leave go of
my neck-tie."

"Well, let the boy go after my umbrella."

"After all, what is the hen good for if not to look after the chickens?"
muttered the old boatman. "The current just here is very strong, and he
won't be able to reach the umbrella. And what's the good of it, when it
will come back of itself when the tide turns in half an hour's time, to
the other side of the 'Yellow.' In half an hour the fishermen will
spread their nets, and the gentleman's umbrella will be sure to be
caught in them; even if a big fish swallows it we can cut it open."

And as the old fisherman had said, so it came to pass; the umbrella was
caught in one of the fishing nets, and great was the joy of old
Gregorics when he once more held his treasure in his hand. He willingly
paid the young fisherman the promised one hundred florins, though it was
not really he who had brought the umbrella back; and in addition he
rewarded the fishermen handsomely, who, the next day, spread the tale
through the whole town of the old madman, who had given one hundred
florins for the recovery of an old torn red umbrella. They had never
before caught such a big fish in the Tisza.

"Perhaps the handle of the umbrella was of gold?"

"Not a bit of it; it was only of wood."

"Perhaps the linen was particularly fine?"

"Rubbish! Is there any linen in the world worth one hundred florins? It
was plain red linen, and even that was torn and ragged."

"Then you have not told us the tale properly."

"I've told you the whole truth."

Kupeczky remarked to Gyuri:

"I would not mind betting the old gentleman has a tile loose."

"A strange man, but a good one," answered Gyuri. "Who knows what
memories are attached to that umbrella!"

CHAPTER III.

PAL GREGORICS'S DEATH AND WILL.

No signification was attached to the above-mentioned incident till years
after, when every one had forgotten all about it, Gyuri included. As for
Kupeczky, he could not remember it, for as soon as the news came from
Besztercebanya that old Gregorics was dead, he took to his bed and never
rose from it again.

"I am d