THE PROMISED HOLIDAY.
THE 28th of July came on the following Thursday. Hans counted the days,
nay, almost the hours, which must intervene; he longed so much to see
what the cherry feast was like. The special train which left Kösen at
mid-day was not to return until late in the evening; for fireworks were
to conclude the entertainment, and they could not be let off until
after nine o'clock.
Hans was dressed in a new suit of clothes, a present from his master.
Karl was growing increasingly fond of him; he had never met his equal
before, and was fast forgetting the relations they bore to one another.
The lad was growing to be more like an adopted son than a hired servant.
"I have come to show myself in my new suit," said Hans, after tapping
at Frau Schmidt's door to ascertain if he might enter. "Isn't it a nice
one? It fits capitally. Oh, I am so happy, dear frau, I have such a
kind master; and I love you so much—you seem to help me on my way."
[Illustration: HANS IN HIS NEW SUIT.]
The invalid smiled kindly on the boy. "I'm glad I help you, my dear,"
she replied; "it's pleasant for a sick woman to know she is some use
in God's world. Yes, Hans, even I have my work to do, or my Master
would call me hence. Perhaps it is to cheer and strengthen you on in
your pilgrimage. But I will not sermonise to-day, but wish that you may
enjoy yourself, and remember you can do so and yet stick to the Raft."
Hans reached the railway-station in good time, and before the train
started some hundred and fifty young people, and children, with a
sprinkling of old folks, were gathered on the platform. Among the
number were Paul Ebhardt and Robert Klein. Hans had not spoken to the
former since their quarrel by the river-side, and the latter had only
addressed him once, and then it was to say, "How could you attack Paul?
He hates you now, and will not forgive you in a hurry."
Naumburg is pleasantly situated in the valley of the Saale; it lies in
the midst of vine-covered hills: for this is one of the most northerly
places in Europe where the vine is cultivated, though the wine it
produces is little better than vinegar. An old wall runs round part
of the town, which contains some fine streets and handsome public
buildings. Just without the wall is a meadow in which the Friedens
Hügel, or Hill of Peace, stands, where Procopius pitched his camp, and
where the children flocked to entreat him to spare their beloved city.
The fête was unusually well attended. There were sports of all kinds
which lasted through the day and into which the young people entered
heartily, while their parents sat under the trees and looked on.
Hans enjoyed the fun intensely. It was quite a new scene for this
forest boy. He came across Paul and Robert several times, but they
seemed quite as anxious as he was to avoid any intercourse; indeed,
only Robert returned the nod which Hans gave when he recognised them
on the platform. Nor were refreshments forgotten; various places were
established in different parts of the meadow where a good supper could
be had, and cherries abounded. It seemed as if all the old women in
Naumburg had turned out, so many were there, with baskets full of
cherries, from which they filled plates and offered them for sale at
the rate of an English halfpenny per plate.
Hans had money given to him by his master for refreshment, and he very
soon settled what he should eat. There was an old man who had taken up
his position in a quiet corner, just within the wooden paling that ran
on one side of the meadow; he sold hot sausages, and to him the lad
repaired when he felt hungry.
The old man was bent with age, but looked shrewd and quite competent
to execute the work he had undertaken. He had a strange sort of
cooking-stove; he put twelve bricks side by side, on to a wooden table,
and made a fire on them, so that the gridiron could stand on the hot
embers and thus keep the sausages simmering; while some rolls and
half-a-dozen plates were ranged round the bricks to be in readiness for
customers.
Hans entered into conversation with him, for it so happened no other
customer was waiting to be served. Thus he learnt that the old man
earned his living by going about the country selling sausages.
"It's a hard life, young master," he said, "and sometimes I long for a
room where I may end my days, but the money doesn't come in fast enough
for that. I can just manage to get a living, and that's all. But I
thank my God for His great mercy to me. If I grow downhearted, I think
of my dear Jesus, who said, 'Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air
have nests; but the Son of Man hath not where to lay his head,' and
that comforts me."
"You stick to the Raft, I can see," answered Hans, and then he
explained what he meant by these words.
Afterwards they chatted about the different fêtes the old man had in
prospect, and the latter said he expected to be at the Schutzen Fest,
and that he went to it every year because he always did a brisk trade
after the match was over.
"The exercise seems to give them all an appetite," he added; "and even
those who don't take any part in the shooting, but only look on, get
very hungry. Sometimes I stay at Kösen for several days."
On hearing this, Hans told his new friend his name, where he lived,
what a good master he had, and that he was practising at the target
every day, for he meant to try and win the Burgomaster's prize.
"I shall be sure to find you out at the festival," continued the boy,
"and I will recommend all the people I know to buy sausages of you, for
I've taken a great liking to you."
"So have I to you," replied the old man, shaking the hand that Richter
held out to him. "Good-bye."
Just as Hans was saying the last words, Robert and his friend came up.
"Has that fellow been eating sausages?" asked Paul, pointing to Hans,
and addressing the old man.
"Yes; and a nice, civil-spoken young lad he is."
"Smooth-tongued enough, I dare say," sneered Paul. "Give me three
sausages, and my friend wants three."
The old man was so accustomed to hear rough words that he made no
reply, but busied himself in preparing the sausages, while the boys sat
down and watched him.
"Robert, I've a splendid idea just come into my head—how odd that I
never thought of it before! I see how we can pay Hans off," said Paul.
"I've been worrying and worrying to no purpose, but now I've got it,
and no mistake. When the fireworks are let off, in the darkness we may
thrust a squib which is fired into his hand, and that'll give him such
a dose that he won't be able to shoot at the festival."
"But it will hurt him," answered Robert; "and though I want the prize,
I should be ashamed to be such a coward as to injure another to gain my
own end. Richter has as good a right to try and win as I have. No, no,
Paul; I'm not quite such a bad fellow as that."
"I've no patience with you!" exclaimed Paul, angrily. "You may go your
own way, and lose the prize. Here come the sausages; let us eat them
while they are hot."
The old man had not been too much engrossed with his cooking to listen
to what Paul and Robert said. He noted every word that passed, and
resolved to look out for Hans and warn him to be careful not to go near
any boys who had squibs, and also to tell him of the conversation he
had overheard. But the customers came so fast that he was too full of
business to carry out his kind intention, for the shades of evening
were falling before the last one was served, and then the fireworks
began, and the old man dared not venture into the crowd which had
gathered at the lower end of the meadow.
When Paul found Robert so averse to his plan of revenge, he determined
to part company with him, and carry out his scheme alone. So he made
the excuse of wishing to see some particular friends, and promised
to meet him at the station when the fireworks were over. He had been
so accustomed all his life to do just what pleased him best, without
heeding if it were right or wrong, that he gloried in the cleverness of
his plot, only regretting that he had mentioned it to Robert.
There was a great concourse of people round the ring from whence the
rockets, wheels, and other pretty devices were let off. And at the same
time, a few boys began letting off squibs, though it had been strictly
forbidden by the authorities.
Hans was standing at the edge of the crowd lost in wonder, for he
had never seen such a display before, when he felt something thrust
into his left hand which exploded almost instantaneously, but in the
explosion, he was severely burnt. Just at this moment came the grand
finale, which closed the evening's entertainment. And the shouting and
clapping were so noisy that the report of the squib was not noticed,
and it fortunately harmed no one else.
In the first few moments, Hans was bewildered, and scarcely realised
what had happened; he was only conscious of sharp pain in his hand.
The crowd dispersed quickly, and he knew the train would start almost
immediately, so he wrapped it in his handkerchief, and, trying to bear
the pain as he best could, walked to the station and jumped into the
first carriage.
His condition excited the attention of his fellow-travellers, and
induced many questions. Every one had some particular remedy to
recommend, but poor Hans paid little heed to their words. He sat still,
holding his wounded left hand with his right, and suffering too much to
be able to enter into conversation.
At last he reached home, and found his master standing outside the
toll-house awaiting his arrival.
"I've had an accident, sir," he said, trying to speak cheerfully. "I'm
afraid my hand is very much burnt." And then he remembered no more
until he returned to consciousness, and found himself stretched on his
bed, for thither Karl Schmidt had carried him in a fainting condition.
"You'll soon be better, my boy. You're a brave fellow to come home
alone after such an accident," said his master. "I expect the pain was
too much for you to bear. You have a nasty burn. How did it happen? But
perhaps you had better not tell me until to-morrow, you look so pale.
I've wrapped your hand in cotton wool; let it stay on until you see the
doctor, and be very careful that the air does not get to it."
"I feel quite comfortable now, sir, and able to talk. I wish I could
tell you how it happened. I only know I felt as if some one forced a
squib into my hand which went off directly."
"It must have been a pure accident. I don't think any boy would be
so cruel as to harm another for amusement," remarked Karl. "The
authorities ought to punish the rascals who dare to let off squibs. I
know this is not the first time some one has been hurt. You must show
your hand to the doctor early to-morrow morning. I am afraid you will
have no more shooting for many days to come."
"Won't it soon be well, sir? I did not think that I should lose the
chance of the prize because of this burn."
"And don't think of it now; but go to sleep, and try to forget you have
been hurt."
Next day Hans paid an early visit to the doctor, who pronounced that
the hand must be put into a sling, it was so much injured, and would
require care for some weeks.
The boy went slowly home, feeling thoroughly depressed and ill. The
world and his prospects looked very gloomy; he could not work—for how
could he push rafts over the weir with one hand? And perhaps his master
would dismiss him if he did not get well quickly; and last, though not
least, there was the shooting match coming on, and he would be unable
to join in it, and that was a sore disappointment. In the short walk
from the doctor's house to the toll-master's cottage, Hans managed to
conjure up all kinds of dismal things: so is it that we often make
troubles before they really exist.
Karl was in his mother's room when Richter appeared in sight. He called
him from the window to come up, for Frau Schmidt was anxious to hear
the doctor's opinion.
"You look as if you had all the cares of the world on your shoulders,
Hans," he exclaimed, when he saw the boy's face. "What's the matter?"
Hans tried to speak in a clear, unconcerned tone, but his voice failed,
and he burst into tears instead.
"Come, don't be so downhearted," said Karl. "It will only be a matter
of a few weeks; you will not learn idle habits in that time. In fact,
you can work all the same; we shall only change places: you must take
the tolls, and will look after the rafts. Why, I used to do both in
former days—levy the duty on the raft, and afterwards help it over the
weir!"
"Then you will keep me on, sir, even if my hand is a long time getting
well?"
"Certainly. This explains why you look so dismal; you thought I should
turn you away because you could not work. Why, Hans, I hoped you knew
me better."
"His faith in you has only failed for the moment," said Frau Schmidt.
"Hans feels ill, and his depression of body dims his trust in you. My
dear boy, it is an old, old fault—this want of faith; would that it did
not run through our lives. In your walk home from the doctor's, you
have lost the Raft, and in losing the Raft you have conjured up doubts
and difficulties which have no foundation."
"Mother, mother, you are in a higher world than we are," replied Karl.
"Poor Hans has not reached it, and I am sure I have not; nevertheless,
would that we were as patient and trustful as you are. You see the boy
has another cause of disappointment which you have not thought of,
perhaps: he will be unable to shoot at the match."
"And I lose my lessons from you, sir," added Hans, in a doleful voice;
"and I did so enjoy having them every evening."
"I hope they will be renewed some day. My dear boy, I am a stern
teacher when I bid you rouse up to see your mercies, and be thankful
for your many blessings," answered Frau Schmidt. "Are you only going to
stick to the Raft when the sun is high and the water smooth? You must
take all your disappointments in life as part of the education which is
to fit you for a higher and better world."
Hans smiled through his tears as the invalid spoke. He felt ashamed of
murmuring over his temporary sickness when he contrasted it with her
days, weeks, months, nay, years of continuous suffering. He had only
time to say, "Thank you, dear frau, for your advice," for his master
exclaimed, "There are a couple of rafts in sight. We had better go
down, Hans; the men are pushing along as if they are in a hurry to pay
toll and pass over the weir. Can you take the money?"
"Oh yes, sir, quite well," replied the lad, hurrying away after his
master.
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