"That's strange! Pouh! What a vile dream!" he muttered with a yawn. "Comrade, just listen: I was out in the country, very much against my will, I assure you.... A horrible old woman pursued me with repeated blows. We crossed heath and swamp; my shoulder-belt and my sword caught in the thickets; my skin was scratched with thorns.... I flew over ditches three yards wide to escape from my persecutor. But the wicked old woman galloped after me and belabored me incessantly.... I was too much of a coward to turn and face her.... Oh! that race by starlight!... I almost hated our beloved Campine,... for all this happened in La Bruyere.... But I'll be hanged if I know where!... Oh! my legs, my poor legs.... You'll not believe, but I'm as exhausted...." "Pouh! Pouh!" interrupted the faithful Warner Cats.... "Dreams are lies! so my grandmother used to say. You'll have forgotten all about these phantoms by the time you're beyond the ramparts, on the way to our beautiful Wildonck, these phantoms will all vanish.... Be done with grumbling.... Hang nightmares, if only the awakening is sweet!" Kors got up, packed his kit, folded his blankets, and cheered by the thought of his holiday, hummed a soldier's tune. As he felt in his pocket he stopped suddenly. "Good heavens! I could have sworn that I put it in my waistcoat pocket." "What? What's up now, you grumbling devil?" asked Warner. "Dash it! Begga Leuven's penknife, ... my Begga.... The pretty knife which she bought me for my fete day when I was last in Antwerp." "Well?" "I cannot find it!... There's a fine state of things.... What will Begga say? I wanted to show her the little treasure still bright and new. The dear soul will never forgive my carelessness." "Nonsense! she'll give you another.... Besides, it is not lucky to give knives; they cut the bonds of love!" Warner added gravely; "they bring misfortune." "In the mean time, the bother is that I've lost the knife. Damn it!" He turned his pockets inside out in vain. "Well, I suppose I must make the best of it," he said at last. When he was ready, he shook hands with his comrade and took up his bundle. "Au revoir!" said Warner. "Remember me to all friends, and drink a pint to my health next Sunday at Maus Walkiers. Don't forget to go and see my old parents, and tell them that my purse is as flat as a pancake. Remember me also to Stans the wheelwright." "Good. Are these all my orders?" Davie hastened into the street.