“And it would be well,” continued the father, “if you went to Siebenhofen and took a look at Amrei, the Butter Count’s daughter.  She has a farm of her own that one could easily sell; the farmers of Siebenhofen have got their eyes on it, for they want to have more land.  But it’s a question of cold cash, and none of them can raise it.  But I’ll say nothing more, for you have eyes of your own.  Come, set out at once, and I’ll fill the money-belt for you—­two hundred crowns will be enough, but if you should have to have more, Dominic will lend you some.  Only make yourself known; I could never understand why you did not tell people who you were that time at the wedding.  Something must have happened then—­but I won’t ask any questions.”

“Yes, because he won’t answer them,” said the mother, smiling.

The farmer at once set about filling the money-belt; he broke open two large paper rouleaux, and it was manifest that he enjoyed counting out the big coins from one hand into the other.  He made twenty piles of ten dollars each, and counted them over two or three times to be sure that he had made no mistake.

“Well, I am ready,” said the young man, standing up as he spoke.

He is the strange dancer whose acquaintance we made at the wedding in Endringen.  He went out to the stable, and presently returned with the white horse already saddled.  And as he was fastening his valise to the bolster, a fine, large wolf-hound began jumping up at him and licking his hands.

“Yes, yes, I’ll take you with me,” said the lad to the dog; and for the first time his face looked cheerful, as he called out to his father: 

“Father, can I take Lux with me?”

“Yes, if you like,” sounded the answer from within, amid the jingling of coins.  The dog seemed to understand the question and the answer, for he ran around the yard in circles, barking joyously.  The young man went into the house, and, as he was buckling on the money-belt, he said “You are right, father; I feel better already, now that I am getting myself out of this aimless way of living.  And I don’t know—­people ought not to be superstitious—­but somehow I was glad when the horse turned around and neighed to me when I went out into the stable just now—­and that the dog wants to go too.  After all, they’re good signs, and if we could ask animals, who knows if they could not give us good advice?”

The mother smiled, but the father said: 

“Don’t forget to look up Crappy Zachy, and don’t go ahead and bind yourself until you have consulted him.  He knows the affairs of all the people for ten miles around, and is a living information bureau.  And now, God be with you!  Take your time—­you may stay away as long as ten days.”

Father and son shook hands, and the mother said: 

“I’ll escort you part of the way.”

The young man, leading his horse by the bridle, then walked quietly beside his mother until they were out in front of the yard, and it was not until they reached the turn in the road that the mother said, hesitatingly: