[Illustration]

When he had gone, it occurred to Hans that he had less oats and no more asses than he had before.

“Tuyfel!” he exclaimed, scratching his pow; “I puy dot yackasses, und I don’t vos god ’im so mooch as I didn’t haf ’im before—­ain’t it?”

Very much to his comfort it was, therefore, to see Jo come by next day leading the same animals.

“Hi!” he shrieked; “you prings me to my yackasses.  You gif me to my broberdy back!”

“Oh, very well, Hans.  If you want to crawfish out of a fair bargain, all right.  I’ll give you back your donkeys, and you give me back my oats.”

“Yaw, yaw,” assented the mollified miller; “you his von honest shentlemans as I vos efer vent anyvhere.  But I don’t god ony more oats, und you moost dake vheat, eh?”

And fetching out three sacks of wheat, he handed them over.  Jo was proceeding to lay these upon the backs of the animals; but this was too thin for even Hans.

“Ach! you tief-veller! you leabs dis yackasses in me, und go right avay off; odther I bust your het mid a gloob, don’t it?”

So Joseph was reluctantly constrained to hang the donkeys to a fence.  While he did this, Hans was making a desperate attempt to think.  Presently he brightened up: 

“Yo, how you coom by dot vheat all de dime?”

“Why, old mudhead, you gave it to me for the jacks.”

“Und how you coom by dot oats pooty soon avhile ago?”

“Why, I gave that to you for them,” said Joseph, pressed very hard for a reply.

“Vell, den, you goes vetch me back to dot oats so gwicker as a lamb gedwinkle his dail—­hay?”

“All right, Hans.  Lend me the donkeys to carry off my wheat, and I ’ll bring back your oats on ’em.”

Joseph was beginning to despair; but no objection being made, he loaded up the grain, and made off with his docile caravan.  In a half-hour he returned with the donkeys, but of course without anything else.

“I zay, Yo, where is dis oats I hear zo mooch dalk aboud still?”

“Oh, curse you and your oats!” growled Jo, with simulated anger.  “You make such a fuss about a bargain, I have decided not to trade.  Take your old donkeys, and call it square!”

“Den vhere mine vheat is?”

“Now look here, Hans; that wheat is yours, is it?”

“Yaw, yaw.”

“And the donkeys are yours, eh?”

“Yaw, yaw.”

“And the wheat’s been yours all the time, has it?”

“Yaw, yaw.”

“Well, so have the donkeys.  I took ’em out of your pasture in the first place.  Now what have you got to complain of?”

The Dutchman reflected all over his head with’ his forefinger-nail.

“Gomblain?  I no gomblain ven it is all right.  I zee now I vos made a mistaken.  Coom, dake a drinks.”

Jo left the animals standing, and went inside, where they pledged one another in brimming mugs of beer.  Then taking Hans by the hand,