On the Monday morning when Peter arrived at his Glassworks, he found not only his workpeople there, but also some very unwelcome visitors; these were the Bailiff and three of his myrmidons. The Bailiff greeted Peter with a "Good-morning," asked how he had slept, and then produced a lengthy document on which appeared the names of Peter's creditors. "Can you settle or not?" demanded the official, with a keen glance at Peter. "And make haste, please, for I have very little time to spare, as the tower-clock struck three some time ago." Then Peter, in despair, had to confess that he had no more money in the world, and made over to the Bailiff for appraisement all his property, including factory, stock, stables, horses, wagons, etc.; and as the official and his men went round making an inventory of everything, he thought to himself: "The Pine-grove is not so far away; and as the _Little One_ has not come to my aid, I'll try my luck with the _Big One_." And straightway he set off running for the Pine-grove as fast as if the officers of justice were at his heels. As he passed the spot where he had first spoken to the Glassmanikin, he felt as though an invisible hand had caught hold of him; but he wrenched himself free, and ran on towards the ditch which, as he had had occasion to remember marked the boundary of Dutch Michael's domain, and no sooner did he spy it than he cried out with what breath he had left in his lungs: "Dutch Michael! Master Dutch Michael!" and immediately there stood before him the gigantic form of the raftsman, pole in hand. "So, you've come!" cried Michael, with a laugh. "Did they want to strip the skin from your back in order to sell it for the benefit of your creditors? Well, don't worry about it; as I have already told you, for your troubles you have to thank that sanctimonious little hypocrite, the Glassmanikin. When one gives at all, it should be with a lavish hand, and not stingily as is that niggard's wont. But come," he continued, turning towards the forest, "follow me to my house, and we will see if we cannot strike a bargain." "Strike a bargain?" thought Peter. "What can he get out of me? What have I to offer him? Must I serve him in some way; or what else will he require of me?" At first, they climbed a steep incline which ended abruptly on the edge of a dark, deep, precipitous ravine. Dutch Michael sprang down from rock to rock as easily as down a broad staircase; and Peter nearly fainted with terror when he perceived how the form of the demon, as soon as the latter's foot had touched bottom, shot up to the height of a church steeple. Then the monster stretched forth an arm as long as a weaver's beam, and a hand as broad as a large table, crying out in a deep voice that sounded like a death-knell: "Stand on my hand and take hold of my fingers, so that you do not fall." Trembling all over, Peter did as he was bid, sitting down on the palm and steadying himself by grasping the gigantic thumb.