"I knew," answered the peddler, "that someone would ask that question. Well, to be brief, I sat on a limb all night--on the very limb on which the crow had been sitting. The wolves all the while were prowling about, and sniffing in the air, to make sure I was there. Not a bit of sleep did I get that night, and when the morning came, I was thankful, for one by one the wolves slunk off and I was left alone. When all was still again and things looked safe, my thoughts turned to the monk's threat, so I got down off my perch, and crept upon my knees, searching for traces of the blood and feathers of the crow. I succeeded in obtaining five little feathers, and these I pocketed with great care. I gathered up twigs that had any stains of blood upon them, and stored them away also. Then I made search under the leaves and dirt for signs of spilt blood. The leaves I gathered up, and the ground I sifted for particles of the precious fluid. "While I was thus engaged, I heard a voice and looked up. It was the voice of the monk, saying, 'Hast thou accomplished all thy task?' "I trembled and made no reply. "'Thou hast tried, I see, but hast not succeeded in gathering all. But give me what thou hast!' he said. "I heaped upon the ground all that I had gathered, just as if it had been precious gold. "'There are still five drops of blood and one feather missing,' said the monk slowly, and a tear ran down his cheek. "'Oh, monk,' I cried, 'help me; I shall find them for you!' "'No, no, my son; I shall give some of my own.' "To my great astonishment, he cut his arm and let five tiny little drops of blood trickle down upon the pile of earth. Then he lifted his hand to his head, as if to extract a hair. Recognizing what he was about to do, I pulled a bunch of hair out of my own head, and threw it down. The monk smiled. Putting his hand beneath his cape, he drew out the white crow. He placed the crow upon the pile and clapped his hands. In a second, the crow--yes, the same old crow--hopped up and sat on the monk's shoulder. Children, I was so pleased to see that crow, that I cried and begged to be allowed to go with the monk, but he waved me off and walked away." "Oh, peddler," exclaimed Betty. "Did that really happen in these woods?" The peddler nodded. "Yes, children, it really happened, and the experience changed my whole life. It is very strange, but whenever I tell this story, someone soon afterward learns for himself that it was true." The children opened their eyes in astonishment. But their father laughed at them, and mamma said it was time to go to bed. Very reluctantly did the youngsters rise and scamper off to rest. The peddler also went to bed. When the peddler had gone, Charles and Betty thought a great deal about what he had told them. It was Charles who suggested: "Betty, let us go and search for the monk?" "Oh, Oh!" exclaimed Betty, opening wide her large blue eyes. "Do you really mean it? But suppose the monk should see us?"