"You poor old beggar, what a guy you look! But how on earth did you manage to pull off that trick? You must be confoundedly clever, or else you had the devil's own luck.... So, on the first night, you used the breathing-time they left you to rig yourself in these togs! Not a bad idea. Who could ever suspect a scarecrow?... They were so accustomed to seeing it stuck up in its tree! But, poor old daddy, how uncomfortable you must have felt, lying flat up there on your stomach, with your arms and legs dangling down! All day long, like that! The deuce of an attitude! And how you must have been put to it, when you ventured to move a limb, eh? And how you must have funked going to sleep!... And then you had to eat! And drink! And you heard the sentry and felt the barrel of his gun within a yard of your nose! Brrrr!... But the trickiest of all, you know, was your bit of straw!... Upon my word, when I think that, without a sound, without a movement so to speak, you had to fish out lengths of straw from your toggery, fix them end to end, let your apparatus down to the water and suck up the heavenly moisture drop by drop.... Upon my word, one could scream with admiration.... Well done, Trainard...." And he added, between his teeth, "Only you're in a very unappetizing state, my man. Haven't you washed yourself all this month, you old pig? After all, you had as much water as you wanted!... Here, you people, I hand him over to you. I'm going to wash my hands, that's what I'm going to do." Farmer Goussot and his four sons grabbed at the prey which he was abandoning to them: "Now then, come along, fork out the money." Dazed as he was, the tramp still managed to simulate astonishment. "Don't put on that idiot look," growled the farmer. "Come on. Out with the six notes...." "What?... What do you want of me?" stammered old Trainard. "The money ... on the nail...." "What money?" "The bank-notes." "The bank-notes?" "Oh, I'm getting sick of you! Here, lads...." They laid the old fellow flat, tore off the rags that composed his clothes, felt and searched him all over. There was nothing on him. "You thief and you robber!" yelled old Goussot. "What have you done with it?" The old beggar seemed more dazed than ever. Too cunning to confess, he kept on whining: "What do you want of me?... Money? I haven't three sous to call my own...." But his eyes, wide with wonder, remained fixed upon his clothes; and he himself seemed not to understand. The Goussots' rage could no longer be restrained. They rained blows upon him, which did not improve matters. But the farmer was convinced that Trainard had hidden the money before turning himself into the scarecrow: "Where have you put it, you scum? Out with it! In what part of the orchard have you hidden it?" "The money?" repeated the tramp with a stupid look.