So the matter was finally settled, and Caspar found his condition much improved by the exchange. His spirits insensibly grew brighter as he felt his old tools once more in his hands. The dark cloud cleared away from his brain, and he was able once more to think and to consider what was best to be done. There was no escape from his present condition, and all that remained was to make the best of it. He could not bring himself to feel that he owed any duty to the sovereign who had sold him like a sheep or the officers who had kidnapped him, but he saw that for his own sake and that of those he had left at home, he must earn and support a good character. He would do so to the best of his ability, would save his wages, and at the end of the war, if he lived so long, he would settle down in the country whither he had been brought against his will and send for his family to come to him. Having once arrived at this conclusion, Caspar kept it steadily in view. He worked early and late, and earned many an odd shilling and half guinea besides his regular pay. He set himself earnestly to work to learn English, and made very rapid progress. One day, after a successful foraging-party in New Jersey, he heard some of his companions laughing over their plunder. "Give it to Reinhart," he heard one of them say. "He can tell us." "Give what to Reinhart?" he asked. "A miracle! A miracle!" cried one of the men. "The smith has spoken without being spoken to.—Come here, smith, and tell Barsch what he has found. He thinks it is a book of Yankee magic." Reinhart took in his hand the small richly-bound volume and looked at the title-page. "It is a Bible," said he. "A Bible! Barsch has stolen a Bible!" cried his companions. "Barsch can set himself up for a pastor.—Come, old fellow, give us a sermon." "Hush, children!" said a gray old sergeant. "Is that the way to treat the holy word? You will bring bad luck on us." "It is only a Yankee Bible, Father Martin," said the young man, a little abashed. "A Bible is a Bible all over the world," returned the old sergeant. "Is not that so, smith?" "That is true," answered Reinhart. He had held the Bible in his hands all the time, and as he turned over its pages, a great longing seized him to have the book for his own. He had not seen or opened a Bible since the day he was carried away, and the very touch and sight seemed to do him good. "Will you sell me this book, Barsch?" he asked. "Give it to you if you like," was the answer. "You don't think it will bring me ill-luck, do you?" "Give him a horseshoe to wear round his neck in exchange for his book," cried one of the men, laughing, "else some Yankee witch will come and carry him off."