‘Hop! hop!’ he cried, pointing with his finger to the middle of the stream, where the water whirled and was drawn down as if through a funnel. And hop! hop! without hesitating, the rats took the leap, swam straight to the funnel, plunged in head foremost and disappeared. The plunging continued thus without ceasing till midnight. At last, dragging himself with difficulty, came a big rat, white with age, and stopped on the bank. It was the king of the band. ‘Are they all there, friend Blanchet?’ asked the bagpiper. ‘They are all there,’ replied friend Blanchet. ‘And how many were they?’ ‘Nine hundred and ninety thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine.’ ‘Well reckoned?’ ‘Well reckoned.’ ‘Then go and join them, old sire, and au revoir.’ Then the old white rat sprang in his turn into the river, swam to the whirlpool and disappeared. When the bagpiper had thus concluded his business he went to bed at his inn. And for the first time during three months the people of Hamel slept quietly through the night. The next morning, at nine o’clock, the bagpiper repaired to the town hall, where the town council awaited him. ‘All your rats took a jump into the river yesterday,’ said he to the counsellors, ‘and I guarantee that not one of them comes back. They were nine hundred and ninety thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine, at one _gros_ a head. Reckon!’ ‘Let us reckon the heads first. One _gros_ a head is one head the _gros_. Where are the heads?’ The ratcatcher did not expect this treacherous stroke. He paled with anger and his eyes flashed fire. ‘The heads!’ cried he, ‘if you care about them, go and find them in the river.’ ‘So,’ replied the Town Counsellor, ‘you refuse to hold to the terms of your agreement? We ourselves could refuse you all payment. But you have been of use to us, and we will not let you go without a recompense,’ and he offered him fifty crowns. ‘Keep your recompense for yourself,’ replied the ratcatcher proudly. ‘If you do not pay me I will be paid by your heirs.’ Thereupon he pulled his hat down over his eyes, went hastily out of the hall, and left the town without speaking to a soul. When the Hamel people heard how the affair had ended they rubbed their hands, and with no more scruple than their Town Counsellor, they laughed over the ratcatcher, who, they said, was caught in his own trap. But what made them laugh above all was his threat of getting himself paid by their heirs. Ha! they wished that they only had such creditors for the rest of their lives. Next day, which was a Sunday, they all went gaily to church, thinking that after Mass they would at last be able to eat some good thing that the rats had not tasted before them. They never suspected the terrible surprise that awaited them on their return home. No children anywhere, they had all disappeared! ‘Our children! where are our poor children?’ was the cry that was soon heard in all the streets.