Bruno had helped Oswald as well as he could; now he was standing on the wagon, throwing down the wood with great energy. "I will go for the doctor, Oswald!" he said, jumping down. "I presume that will be the best, Bruno," said the latter. "You know the road, and I cannot well leave him. Shorten his stirrups, Mr. Wrampe!" "Directly," said the latter, but Bruno had done it already, and with one effort, without using the stirrups, he was in the saddle and had the bridle in his hand. The fiery horse, feeling the light burden, reared. "He'll throw you," said the steward. "Never mind," replied the boy. "Your whip! Up, _allez!_" and he cut the horse over the neck and galloped off at full speed. Oswald just saw how he leapt the broad ditch and took a short cut through the wood in order to reach the highroad more quickly, and thus to get through Fashwitz to the little town where the doctor lived. CHAPTER XX. The steward and Oswald had in the mean time succeeded, though not without difficulty, in putting the patient on the wagon, after having made him a kind of couch with the aid of some clothes and hay from the adjoining meadow. Mr. Wrampe's giant power seemed to be perfectly paralyzed by the fright. Oswald got into the wagon to support the servant, who was now in a state of lethargy, and the steward undertook to drive. Fortunately the distance was not very great, as the cottages lay on this side of the barns and outbuildings, and therefore much nearer than the château itself. "You know where the man lives?" asked Oswald, as they came near the village. "The very first house," answered Mr. Wrampe, turning round in the saddle and pointing with his whip at a cottage, which looked more like a large kennel than a habitation of men. "Is he married?" "Has been married," replied Mr. Wrampe, "but his poor wife--" here he broke off, casting a shy look at the man's pale face, as if he meant to say: Of the dead and deadly sick we ought to speak no evil. "Has he any children?" "Two; there they are at Mother Claus' door. Mother Claus! he! Jake has had his troubles again; put the children out of the way or they'll be frightened." The steward's sense of propriety had evidently been wonderfully developed by his wrong. The old woman seemed to be enjoying the last rays of the sun before the door of her cottage, while two little children were playing in the sand at her feet. When the old woman looked up, Oswald recognized the old lady with whom, the day before, on his way to church, he had had the singular conversation about immortality. The old woman cast a look at the wagon, took the children, led them into the house, and came out again just as the wagon stopped at the door. "Is he dead?" she asked, coming near. "No, mother," said Oswald. "Why, to be sure, the young gentleman again! Well, I like that in you, that you take pity on a poor fellow. Just carry him in, will you? I have put the children up stairs."