"Well, thus much I can see," Herbold now expressed his opinion; "there is no great art in raising cattle here; one has only to drive them out, and scarcely trouble oneself further about them." "There," said Wolfgang, who had now joined them, and had heard the last remark, "you fall into an error common with emigrants from Europe. They go from one extreme to the other, and believe that, because in their own country they have so much trouble with stall feeding, and are obliged to conduct everything with so much care, therefore that here they have nothing further to do, for instance, than to drive out a breeding sow into the woods, in order to have a drove of some hundred hogs arrive some three or four years after. No, no; one must not neglect cattle here either, but must look after it, else they get wild, and become worse than deer or rabbits." "I don't know what Wolfgang means by extremes, or what extremes are, but in other respects he has hit it exactly. One has to drive about in the woods for many a long day to get the creatures together, and when that is done they never will remain where they are wanted. But you were saying that you wanted to buy some cows and horses; if you do, you couldn't have pitched upon a better time than just the present; my best cows are here, and there is not one of the horses missing." "Certainly, we wish to buy both cattle and horses," said Siebert, who now also joined in the conversation; "that was just the cause of our coming hither; but in making our bargain we must rely implicitly upon Mr. Wolfgang and yourself, for----" "Mr. Wolfgang understands the thing thoroughly," the old American interrupted him, laughing; "we have transacted many a piece of business together. He and his wife--by-the-bye, Wolfgang, how is your wife? she suffered much from the fever lately." "It is well with her," said the young man, turning half aside; "she is dead." "Dead! dear me! and we never heard a word of it, so that we might----" "Don't press the subject," said the young man, deprecatingly; "the distance between this and the river is great, how could you hear of it? Besides, these worthy people helped me kindly with the burial. But," he continued, while he passed his hands lightly across his eyes, "I think it is better for me, and for all of us, if we let alone the melancholy past. We have business to attend to, and activity is the best preservative against sorrow." "But your wife----" said Stevenson. "Was an angel," Wolfgang interrupted him, in a low voice, "and I shall never, never forget her, so long as this poor heart beats; still, do me the favour not to wake the old sorrow. I have, Heaven knows! suffered enough already.--When are you going to clear out, Stevenson?" The old man reached him his hand in silence, grasped heartily that which was offered him, and then changed his tone, in order not to sadden his friend yet more.