When they had ridden half-way through the forest, however, the stranger stopped again. "Get down," he said. The boy obeyed, and was directed as on the former occasion--but not until the horseman had made the same strange gesture with his hands--to go to an old stump. This time he found a silver livre. He gave it to his master, and climbed again to his place, marvelling much. A third time they stopped, on the farther verge of the forest. The same words passed, but this time the boy found a gold crown in the hole. After that his mind no longer ran upon ogres and giants. Instead, another fancy almost as dreadful took possession of him. He remarked that everything the stranger wore was black: his cloak, his hat, his gauntlets. Even his long boots, which in those days were commonly made of untanned leather, were black. So was the furniture of the horse. Jehan noticed this as he mounted the third time; and connecting it with the marvellous springing up of money where the man willed, began to be seized with panic, never doubting but that he had fallen into the hands of the devil. Likely enough, he would have dropped off at the first opportunity that offered, and fled for his life--or his soul, but he did not know much of that--if the stranger had not in the nick of time drawn a parcel of food from his saddle-bag. He gave some to Jehan. Even so, the boy, hungry as he was, did not dare to touch it until he was assured that his companion was really eating--eating, and not pretending. Then, with a great sigh of relief, he began to eat too. For he knew that the devil never ate! After this they rode on in silence, until, about an hour before noon, they came to a small farm-steading standing by the road, half a league short of the sleepy old town of Yvetot, which Beranger was one day to celebrate. Here the magician--for such Jehan now took his companion to be--stopped. "Get down," he said. The boy obeyed, and instinctively looked for a stump. But there was no stump, and this time his master, after scanning his ragged garments as if to assure himself of his appearance, had a different order to give. "Go to that farm," he said. "Knock at the door, and say that Solomon Nôtredame de Paris requires two fowls. They will give them to you. Bring them to me." The boy went wide-eyed, knocked, and gave his message. A woman, who opened the door, stretched out her hand, took up a couple of fowls that lay tied together on the hearth, and gave them to him without a word. He took them--he no longer wondered at anything--and carried them back to his master in the road.