"Rewarded, did you say?" cried the captain of the fifth company, and laughed; "yes, those Swabian dogs would have melted gold out of lead if they could! But I say they paid us ill, and if his grace the Duke will take me, my services are at his command." "You are right, Staberl," said the general, and stroked his beard. "_Morbleu!_ the cat likes to have his back stroked:--if the Duke pays well, the whole corps will join him." "Well, you shall soon see that," said the peasant, with a cunning smile; "have you had an answer to your message to the Duke?" The general's whole countenance became as red as fire at this question. "_Mordelement!_ Who are you, child of man, who knows my secret? Who told you I had sent to the Duke?" "Did you, Peter, send to him? What secret have you between each other that we should not know? Tell us immediately," said the Magdeburger. "Well, I thought it was my duty to think for you all again, as I always have done, and sent a man to the Duke in our name, and with our compliments, to know if he required our services? Our terms were, half a broad piece a man per month, and for us generals and captains a gold florin, with four measures of old wine." "Those are no bad terms: a gold florin a month! none of us will object to them. Have you had an answer from the Duke?" said the Magdeburger. "Not yet," said the general. "But, _bassa manelka!_ tell me, how do you come to know my secret, peasant, or I'll cut off your ear, and pin it to my hat? Tell me immediately, or off it comes." "Long Peter," cried the little captain Muckerle, "let him go in peace, for God's sake! he is a resolute man, and possesses the art of witchcraft. I recollect his face as well as if it was but to-day, when we had orders to arrest him in Ulm, and were sent to look for him at the stable of Herrn von Kraft, the clerk of the council, where he resided. He was a spy, and was able to make himself smaller and smaller, not bigger than a sparrow, and flew away from us." "What!" cried the gallant general, and edged away from the peasant; "is this the man? Why did not the magistrates of Ulm order all the sparrows to be shot, because a Würtemberger spy had turned himself into one?" "That's him," whispered Muckerle; "that's the fifer of Hardt; I knew him as soon as I saw him."