"Yes, Herr, when the watchmaker was _transpired_, he ran along with him, and then, when he came back again, he went talking High German to Mamsell Westphalen and then they both whispered together." "High German? Fritz Sahlmann talking High German? What does the rascal want to be talking High German for? What did he say?" "He said; '_help is near_.'" "Oh! and then the Rathsherr came?" "Yes, Herr Amtshauptmann, and I shoved my broom in his face; but I couldn't help it." "This is a very strange thing!" said the old Herr, and walked up and down, and stroked his chin, and looked up at the ceiling, and looked down on the floor. At last he stood still and said, "Neiting, I see clearly what it is. That old fool, Westphalen, has taken fright, and the Rathsherr has been meddling, and has put her up to some folly. She has hidden herself--you'll see." "Well then, let her, Weber." "No, Neiting, that won't do. She must come to the town and bear witness for the watchmaker and the Miller, or both their necks may be in danger. If I only knew where that monkey, Fritz Sahlmann, was! He'll know all about it. And you don't know where he is, Hanchen?" "No, Herr." "Well, then, you may go." As Hanchen turned round to go, her eyes fell on the end-window, but, being naturally very clear and wide-awake they took in, not only the window, but what was passing outside it. She turned quickly round again, and said-- "Now I know where he is, Herr Amtshauptmann." "Well, then, where?" "Out there, sir." "Where?" answered the old Herr, and he put up his eye-glasses, and looked everywhere except where Fritz Sahlmann was. "There, Herr Amtshauptmann, there, in the old apple-tree that stands at the corner of the kitchen wall." "So he is! Well, this _is_ a strange thing!--In the winter too! Now, if it had been autumn when the apples are on the tree, I could have understood it; but in the winter!" "Oh! Weber," said his wife, "he is no doubt practising now." "Hanchen Besserdich, you have good eyes, what is he doing there?" asked the old Herr fumbling with his eye-glass. "Why, he has got a long pole, but what he means to do with it I don't see. He's pointing it towards the smoking-garret." "Towards our smoking-garret! What can he want there, Neiting?" "I don't know, Weber; but I should not be at all surprised if some more sausages were missing tomorrow." "Bravo, bravo! Why, that is a capital tree for my Fritz. Apples in summer, and sausages in winter!" And he opened the window and cried: "Fritz Sahlmann! Fritz, my lad, come down from that tree; you might catch cold out in the rain."