“There he is with his ear to the glass,” cried Tutilo. “Do you, Notker, because you are a timid little chap (_timidulus_), go away into the church. But Ratpert, my friend, take down the whip that hangs in the chimney corner and run out-doors. And then comfort my heart (_cor meum confortare_) by laying on to him with all your might (_esto robustus_). For I, when you get close enough, will throw open the window in a hurry, catch him by the hair and hang on with a will” (_ad me pertractum violenter tenebo_). Off went the timorous Notker; out slipped the cheerful Ratpert; open went the window, and the vigorous Tutilo clutched Sindolf by ears and hair together! Then Ratpert rained on the lashes (_a dorso ingrandinat_), and Sindolf twisted and howled and kicked, and lights began to fly around, and the brethren came running. But Tutilo held on and called for a light and shouted that he had caught the devil; while Ratpert vanished into the night and Notker had entirely disappeared in the church. “Where are Notker and Ratpert?” was the first question. “Oh, they smelled the devil and ran away to ask succor from heaven,” said Tutilo. “And here was I, left to do the best I could with this thing that walks in darkness. And I believe an angel has been sent to chastise him in the rear!” The sneaky Sindolf was completely abashed, but his temper did not improve under the chastisement. Even Salomon, his patron, laughed at him along with the others, which made the matter worse. So one day, finding a beautiful copy of the Canonical Epistles in Greek which Liutward, Bishop of Vercelli, had sent as a present to Notker, what does the malicious wretch do but cut it to pieces with his knife! Ekkehard adds that the mutilated copy could still be seen in the library of St. Gall. These two worthies, Ratpert and Tutilo, heartily deserve the place which Ekkehard accords them in his life of Notker. Ratpert walked usually between Notker and Tutilo; a very punctual, studious man who “wore out two pairs of shoes in the year;” a man who seldom left the abbey walls, and who regarded “expeditions” as being to the full “as dangerous as kisses;” a negligent fellow about the offices and masses, claiming that he taught them often enough to his pupils; and finally, a composer of good litanies; dying October 25th, A.D. 900.