"He is wounded!" Lamme cried. "My gentle friend is wounded by the rascally murderer." And then, with a vicious kick at the jaw of the evangelist who lay nearest to him: "You cannot answer me, Ulenspiegel? Are you going to die, my son? Where is the ointment! Ha! I remember now. It is at the bottom of his satchel under the sausages. Can't you hear me speak, Ulenspiegel? Alas! there is no warm water here to wash your wound, and no way of getting any. The water of the Sambre will have to do instead. But speak to me, my friend. You are not so badly hurt after all, surely. A little water--there, it's cold, isn't it? But he is waking up. It's I, your friend; and your enemies are all dead! Oh, where is some linen? Some linen to bind up his wounds. There isn't any. What am I to do? Ah! my shirt, that must serve." Presently Ulenspiegel opened his eyes and raised himself from the ground with his teeth all chattering because of the cold. "And here you are standing up already!" Lamme exclaimed. "It is a balm of much virtue," said Ulenspiegel. "Balm of valiance," answered Lamme. And then, taking the bodies of the evangelists one by one, he cast them into a hole in the rocks, leaving their weapons and their clothes upon them. But he took their cloaks. And all around in the sky the crows were beginning to caw to each other, in anticipation of the feast. And the Sambre flowed by like a river of steel under the grey sky. And the snow fell, washing the blood away. Yet they felt ill at ease, and Lamme said: "I had rather kill a chicken than a man." And they mounted again upon their donkeys. And when they arrived at the gates of Huy, the blood was still trickling from the head of Ulenspiegel, so they dismounted and pretended to have a quarrel, and to use their daggers on one another, with the utmost ferocity as it seemed. But when they had finished their duel, they remounted their donkeys and came into the town, showing their passports at the city gates. The women, seeing Ulenspiegel wounded and bleeding while Lamme rode his donkey as though he had been the victor, threw many a glance of tender commiseration upon Ulenspiegel, and pointed their fingers at Lamme, saying: "That is the rascal who wounded his friend." Lamme all this time was anxiously scrutinizing the crowd, hoping to discover his wife among them; but all was in vain, and he was sad at heart. XXI "Where are you going now?" said Lamme. "To Maestricht," answered Ulenspiegel. "But stay, my son. I have heard that the army of the Duke is camped all round the city and that he himself is within. Our passports will be of no use to us there. Even if they satisfy the Spanish soldiers, we shall still be arrested in the city and put through an examination. And in the meantime they will become aware of the death of the evangelists and our days on this earth will be numbered." To this Ulenspiegel made answer: