One of the little dandies, who had heard his question, said to his companions: "Jerusalem! but did you chaps hear that kicker? The fellow went into the new church yesterday morning, and talked back at the dominie." "What fellow?" asked the others. "Good Lord! Don't you know him? That half-luny fellow with the black curly-pate? He does that now and then." "Gee! That's rich. And what did the dominie say?" "Well, he found it no joke, for the fellow knew all about it--as darned well as he did himself. But the gypsy had his trouble for his pains; for that time the dominie wouldn't have anything to do with such a dirty competitor!" And the three friends laughed at the top of their voices. "How did it end?" "He had him walked clean out of the church, by the sexton and two cops." "That's confounded silly. 'Twould have been better to see who could crow the loudest. It's the loudest cock that wins." "The idea! You'd have me believe you mean it? Suppose they gave the prize to the wrong fellow?" "Whether you are cheated by a fool of a preacher, or by a scissors-grinder, what's the difference?" Johannes reflected a moment and wondered if it would not be commendable to do what he ached to do--fly at these people and rain blows upon their heads. But he controlled himself and passed on, convinced that in doing so he was escaping some hard work. For five hours he walked on without being much the wiser for his inquiries. Some people thought they had seen Markus; others knew positively nothing about him. Johannes began to fear he had passed him; for by this time he ought to have overtaken him. It began to grow dark, and before him lay a wide river which he must cross by means of a ferry-boat. On the farther side were hills covered with an underwood of oak, and tall, purple-flowered heather. The ferryman was positive that he had not that day taken over a scissors-grinder; but in yonder town, an hour's distance from the river, a Fair was to begin in the morning. Very likely Markus also would be there. Johannes sat down by the roadside in the midst of the dark broom, with its millions of small purple flowers. The setting sun cast a glorious coloring over land and mist, and over the lustrous, flowing water. He was tired but not depressed, and he ate his bread contentedly, certain that he should find Markus. The road had become quiet and lonely. It was fun to be so free--so alone and independent--at home in the open country. Rather than anywhere else he should like to sleep out-of-doors--in the underwood. But just as he was about to lay himself down, he saw the figure of a man with his hands in his pockets, and his cap pushed back. Johannes sat up, and waited until he came closer. Then he recognized him. "Good evening, Director!" said Johannes. "Good evening to you, my friend!" returned the other. "What are you doing here? Are you lost?" "No; I am looking for friends. Is Markus with you?"