“Need aught be said, Herr Werner? I hold naught against him, save for Siegfried’s sake,”—with a loving glance over at the great horse,—“and ’tis not likely he’ll be at this mischief again.” “What say, thou fine fellow?” asked the young knight of Conradt; but the latter said no word. “Bah!” cried Herr Werner, at last. “Why, the tinker lad is a truer man than thou on every showing; get hence, that I waste on thee no more of the time should go to his wound,” he added; for Wulf, in moving his arm, had suddenly flinched and his face was pale. In another moment Herr Werner had the hurt member in hand, and as he was, like most men of that rude time, somewhat skilled in caring for wounds, he had soon bandaged this one, which was of no great extent, but more painful than serious, and was quickly eased. Meanwhile Conradt had moved off, leaving the two alone. Though it would never be set to his credit, his malice had wrought a good work; for in that hour our Wulf got himself a strong and true friend in the young knight, who was fair won by the sterling stuff that showed in the lad. “He hath more of knightliness in him here in the stables,” thought he, as he left Wulf, “than Conradt will ever know as lord of the castle; and, by my forefathers, he shall have what chance may be mine to give him!” And that vow Herr Werner never forgot. CHAPTER VII HOW WULF CLIMBED THE IVY TOWER, AND WHAT HE SAW AT THE BARRED WINDOW Good as his word had Herr Werner been in finding Wulf the chance to show that other stuff dwelt in him than might go to the making of a mere stable-lad. For the next three years he was under the young knight’s helping protection, and, thanks to the latter’s good offices in part, but in the end, as must always be the case, with boy or man, thanks to his own efforts, he made so good use of his chance that his tinker origin was haply overlooked, if not forgotten, by those left behind him as he mounted height by height of the castle’s life. Not that these forgave him his rise. Those small, mean souls had sought the hurt of the boy, but, when all was said and done, ’twas hard to hold hatred of such a nature as his. The training of old Karl and of the forest had done its work well with him, and he was still the simple, sunny-hearted Wulf of the forge, ever ready to help, forgiving even where forgiveness was unsought, and keeping still, amid all the foulness and wickedness of that dark time and in that evil place, the clean, wholesome child nature that had dwelt in the baby among the osiers.