Just what the boy expected to do in Burgundy, I did not know.  For the lady’s wealth I believe he did not care a straw—­he wanted herself.  He hoped that Charles, for his own peace, would not be too uncivil and would not force a desperate person to take extreme measures; but should this rash duke be blind to his own interests—­well, let him beware!  Some one might carry off his daughter right from under the ducal nose.  Then let the Burgundian follow at his peril.  Castle Hapsburg would open his eyes.  He would learn what an impregnable castle really is.  If Duke Charles thought he could bring his soft-footed Walloons, used only to the mud roads of Burgundy, up the stony path to the hawk’s crag, why, let him try!  Harmless boasting is a boy’s vent.  Max did not really mean to boast, he was only wishing; and to a flushed, enthusiastic soul, the wish of to-day is apt to look like the fact of to-morrow.

We hoped to find a caravan ready to leave Linz, but we were disappointed, so we journeyed by the Danube to the mouth of the Inn, up which we went to Muhldorf.  There we found a small caravan bound for Munich on the Iser.  From Munich we travelled with a caravan to Augsburg, and thence to Ulm, where we were overjoyed to meet once more our old friend, the Danube.  Max snatched up a handful of water, kissed it, and tossed it back to the river, saying:—­“Sweet water, carry my kiss to the river Save; there give it to a nymph that you will find waiting, and tell her to take it to my dear old mother in far-off Styria.”

Do not think that we met with no hard fortune in our journeying.  My gold was exhausted before we reached Muhldorf, and we often travelled hungry, meeting with many lowly adventures.  Max at first resented the familiarity of strangers, but hunger is one of the factors in man-building, and the scales soon began to fall from his eyes.  Dignity is a good thing to stand on, but a poor thing to travel with, and Max soon found it the most cumbersome piece of luggage a knight-errant could carry.

Among our misfortunes was the loss of the bundle prepared by the duchess, and with it, alas!  St. Martin’s tooth.  Max was so deeply troubled by the loss of the tooth that I could not help laughing.

“Karl, I am surprised that you laugh at the loss of my mother’s sacred relic,” said Max, sorrowfully.

I continued to laugh, and said:  “We may get another tooth from the first barber we meet.  It will answer all the purposes of the one you have lost.”

“Truly, Karl?”

“Truly,” I answered.  “The tooth was a humbug.”

“I have long thought as much,” said Max, “but I valued it because my mother loved it.”

“A good reason, Max,” I replied, and the tooth was never afterward mentioned.

From Ulm we guarded a caravan to Cannstadt.  From that city we hoped to go to Strasburg, and thence through Lorraine to Burgundy, but we found no caravan bound in that direction.  Our sojourn at Cannstadt exhausted the money we got for our journeys from Augsburg and Ulm, and we were compelled, much against our will, to accept an offer of service with one Master Franz, a silk merchant of Basel, who was about to journey homeward.  His caravan would pass through the Black Forest; perhaps the most dangerous country in Europe for travellers.