The corpulent recorder followed the halberdier’s counsel, and throwing himself upon the trunk of a sycamore, he held on with knees, feet, and hands, making unheard-of efforts in his clumsy ascent. The baron and his guests, seeing that the man was no longer in real danger, again began their jests and laughter. The clerk, more nimble than the recorder, was now safely seated in the top of a sycamore. “Master Bruin has come at last! Take care, beware!” cried Raimond, laughing till the tears came in his eyes at the efforts of the recorder, who was trying to straddle one of the largest branches of the tree he had climbed with so much difficulty. “If the recorder looks like an old bear climbing his pole,” said another, “the clerk looks like an old, shivering monkey,--see his jaws chatter.” “Come, come, clerk, get to your task; where is your pen and your ink, and your register? You are safe, now,--scribble your scrawl,” cried the old lord of Signerol. “Attention, attention, the tournament has begun!” cried one of the guests. “It is Nicolin against a halberdier.” “Largess, largess for Nicolin!” Seeing the two men of the law safe from their horns, the bulls had turned upon the halberdiers. But one of the halberdiers, throwing himself against the wall, pricked the animal so sharply in the nose and the shoulder, that the bull dared not make another attack, and bounded off into the middle of the court. Seeing the courage of the halberdier, the baron cried: “Have no fear, my brave fellow, you shall have ten francs to drink his health, and I will furnish the wine gratis.” Then addressing the invisible Larmaée, the old gentleman ordered: “Tell the shepherd to send his dogs, and drive these bulls back into the stable. The dance of the recorder and the clerk has lasted long enough.” The baron had hardly finished speaking, when three shepherd dogs of large size came out of a half-open door and ran straight after the bulls. After a few flourishes, the animals ended the farce by galloping into the stable, the magazine of arms and artillery of Maison-Forte, as the treacherous sign-board had announced. The recorder and his clerk, seeing themselves delivered from danger, still did not dare descend from their impregnable position. In vain Laramée, bearing two glasses of wine on a silver plate, came offering the stirrup-cup from the baron, and telling them, what was true, that the bridge had been replaced, and their horses and mules were waiting for them outside.