ion that he had
fled in exactly the opposite direction to the one he had intended, and
had arrived among the raftsmen instead of among the glass-blowers.
The cottagers were wood-fellers, and the family consisted of an old
man, his son, who was the owner of the cottage, and some grown-up
grandchildren. They bade Charcoal-Peter a kindly welcome when he asked
for a night's lodging, without questioning him as to his name or whence
he came, offered him cider to drink, and set on the table for supper a
large woodcock, which is the choicest dish of the Black Forest.

[Illustration: Dutch Michael felling the trees.]

After supper the housewife and her daughters betook themselves to
their spinning, sitting round the large burning wood-splinter, which
served as light and which the young people kept fed with the finest
pine-resin, while the grandfather, the house-owner and their guest
smoked and watched the women, and the boys busied themselves cutting
spoons and forks out of wood. Without, in the forest the storm howled
and rushed through the pines, heavy thuds being heard every now and
then, as if whole trees were being torn up by the roots and flung to
earth. The fearless youngsters wanted to run out into the forest to
witness the scene in all its awful grandeur, but their grandfather
forbade them with stern words and looks. "I advise no one to set foot
outside the door this night," he cried to them; "he who does so will
never return; for Dutch Michael is abroad to-night hewing down timber
for a new raft."

The young ones stared at him; although they must have heard many a time
of Dutch Michael, yet they begged their grandfather to relate them once
more some good story of that forest-spirit. Peter Munk, also, who had
only heard vague rumours of Dutch Michael on his side of the forest,
chimed in with the others and begged the old man to say who and what he
might be.

"He is the lord of this forest," answered the old man, "and for one of
your age not to have heard of him tells me that your home lies on the
other side of the Pine-grove, or even farther off. But I will relate to
you what I know of Dutch Michael, and what people say of him. About a
hundred years ago, at least, so my grandfather told me, there were no
more honourable people than the Black-Foresters in the whole world. But
now that money is so plentiful, dishonesty and evil are everywhere. Our
young lads dance and riot on the Sabbath, and swear terribly. But
form