“The rafts themselves seem alive,” said Hans to his friend.  “You men know just how to bind the logs together with those willow bands, so they twist and turn about like living creatures as they move down the stream.”

“I have travelled on a raft all the way from here to Cologne,” answered the wood-cutter.  “The one who steers must be skilful, for he needs to be very careful.  You know the rafts grow larger all the time, don’t you, Hans?”

“Oh, yes.  As the river becomes wider, the smaller ones are bound together.  But is it true that the men sometimes take their families along with them?”

“Certainly.  They set up tents, or little huts, on the rafts, so their wives and children can have a comfortable place to eat and sleep.  Then, too, if it rains, they can be sheltered from the storm.”

“I’d like to go with you sometime.  You pass close to Strasburg, and I could stop and visit Uncle Fritz.  Wouldn’t it be fun!”

“Hans!  Hans!” called a girl’s voice just then.

“I don’t see her, but I know that’s Bertha.  She came over to the village with me this afternoon.  One of her friends has a coffee-party and she invited us to it.  So, good-bye.”

“Good-bye, my lad.  Come and see me again.  Perhaps I can manage sometime to take you with me on a trip down the river.”

“Thank you ever so much.”

Hans hurried away, and was soon entering the house of a little friend who was celebrating her birthday with a coffee-party.

There were several other children there.  They were all dressed in their best clothes and looked very neat and nice.  The boys wore long trousers and straight jackets.  They looked like little old men.  The girls had bright-coloured skirts and their white waists were fresh and stiff.

Their shoes were coarse and heavy, and made a good deal of noise as the children played the different games.  But they were all so plump and rosy, it was good to look at them.

“They are a pretty sight,” said one of the neighbours, as she poured out the coffee.

“They deserve to have a good time,” said another woman with a kind, motherly face.  “They will soon grow up, and then they will have to work hard to get a living.”

The coffee and cakes were a great treat to these village children.  They did not get such a feast every day in the year.  Their mothers made cakes only for festivals and holidays, and coffee was seldom seen on their tables oftener than once a week.

In the great cities and fine castles, where the rich people of Germany had their homes, they could eat sweet dainties and drink coffee as often as they liked.  But in the villages of the Black Forest, it was quite different.

“Good night, good night,” said Hans and Bertha, as they left their friends and trudged off on a path through the woods.  It was the shortest way home, and they knew their mother must be looking for them by this time.