“Very well, make fast that warp again, and come along.”

The party then disappeared amongst the brushwood.

“Some time ago,” remarked Fritz, “we followed this track about the same hour; there was danger to be apprehended, but the enterprise was bloodless, though successful.”

“You mean the chimpanzee affair,” said Willis.

“Yes; this time we have only an emotion to conquer, but I am afraid it is too strong for us.”

“These are the trees,” said Jack, as they debouched upon the road, “that I stuck my proclamations upon.  We had very little to think of in those days.”

As the party drew near Falcon’s Nest, the dogs approached and welcomed them with the usual canine demonstrations of joy.

“I have half a mind to carry off Toby,” said Fritz; “but I fear Mary would miss him.”

Externally all appeared tranquil at Falcon’s Nest; this satisfied the young men that their mother had succeeded in reaching home, at least, in safety; a light streaming through the window of Becker’s dwelling, however, showed that the family had not yet retired for the night.

“If they only knew we were so near them!” remarked Jack.

The entire party then sat down upon a rustic bench, shrouded with flowering orchis and Spanish jasmine.

“How often, on returning from the fields or the chase, we have seen our mother at work on this very seat,” observed Fritz.

“Aye,” added Jack; “once I observed she had fallen asleep whilst knitting stockings.  I advanced on tip-toe, removed gently her knitting apparatus, stockings, and all, and placed on her lap some ortolans that I had caught and strangled; but I first plucked one of them, and scattered the feathers all about, and then retreated into a thicket to watch the denouement of my scheme.  She awoke, put down her hand to take up a stocking, and laid hold of a bird.  She stared, rubbed her eyes, stared again, looked about, and could find nothing but the ortolan feathers.  I then ran forward and embraced her, looking as if I had just come from unearthing turnips.  ‘Well, I declare,’ she said with a bewildered air, ’I could have sworn that I was knitting just now, and here I find myself plucking ortolans; and what is more, I have not the slightest idea where, in all the world, the birds have come from!’ Of course, I looked as innocent as possible; so that the more she stared and reflected, the less she could make the matter out.  At last, she went on plucking the birds, and when this was done she stuck them on the spit.  When the ortolans were roasted and ready to be served up, I went into the kitchen, carried them off, and put my mother’s knitting apparatus on the spit.  Imagine her surprise when she beheld her worsted and stockings at the fire, knowing, at the same time, that four hungry stomachs were waiting for their dinners!  At last, fearing that she was going to ascribe the metamorphosis to some hallucination of her own, I went up to her, threw my arms round her neck, told her the whole story, and we both of us enjoyed a hearty laugh over it.”