The Young Carpenters of Freiberg | Page 3

horse to pass it. The animal reared and threatened to fall
backwards on its rider, who appeared to be in a towering passion. He
rode back a short distance, and used all the arts of his horsemanship to
reduce his refractory steed to obedience. The man did not spare either
oaths, spurring, or blows of his heavy whip, until the horse, still shying
but obedient at last, went trembling past the truck. Then the rider turned

the animal back once more, and did not rest until he had made it leap
over the object of its terror. As it did so, one of its hind hoofs touched
the lid of the truck and threw it back. The soldier turned in mid-career,
saw the form of the apprentice, drew a pistol from his holster like
lightning, and fired at him where he lay. At the report and flash the
youth started up, and the bullet passed close by his hand, grazing the
skin, and lodged in the side of the truck. Fortunately for him, the report
of the pistol had such a startling effect on the already frightened horse,
that the rider could no longer restrain it, and rode off at full speed after
his comrades, leaving the apprentice to pursue his way to Erbisdorf in
peace. On reaching the village, he directed his steps towards the mill,
where he was received by a slender, pale little woman, not at all like
the miller's wife he expected to see, for he had pictured the heroine of
his story as a tall, strong woman, with a loud voice and great muscular
arms. He soon found out his mistake, however, for at sight of the
sorrowful burden he had brought, she cried out, 'What! must I lay my
little Georgie to rest in such a thing as that? Why, my husband need not
have sent to Freiberg for it. We could have made a prettier resting-place
ourselves for my little son, and'--
'Please have patience,' interrupted the apprentice, 'and do not despise
our work before you have examined it. But first, would you be so good
as to give me a bit of sopped bread to tie on my hand; it begins to burn
and smart pretty badly. Just look, Mistress Miller, there's a Swedish
dragoon's bullet in the side of the truck; if you would lend me a chisel
or a pair of pincers, I could get it out, and take it home in my pocket.'
While the woman was gone to fetch what he had asked for, Conrad
carried the little coffin into the house.
'I know one thing,' he said to the miller's wife when she returned, 'our
senior journeyman must be a very smart man; I should think he can
almost hear the grass grow. If he had not been, my last hour would
have come today. "Conrad Schmidt," he said to me before I
started,--"Conrad Schmidt, in these days we must mind what we are
about. You will perhaps meet some soldiers on the way to Erbisdorf,
and if you do, I will tell you how to escape." If he had not told me what

to do, they would have killed me to a certainty. But where is the poor
little boy?'
The miller's wife stepped across to a corner of the room and drew back
a large linen cloth from a bed, disclosing the body of a fine boy
between eight and nine years old. He lay with closed eyes and little
hands peacefully folded on his breast, so quiet that any one might have
thought it was only sleep.
'We found him with his little hands folded just like that,' said the
miller's wife, bursting into tears. 'His soul has gone to heaven, I am
sure.'
'Ah! you can see he did not suffer much,' said Conrad softly, 'and that is
something to be thankful for. Whether the two soldiers were
Imperialists or Swedes, they might have tied the little fellow to a
barn-door and practised at him with their pistols, or tortured him in
fifty cruel ways, as they have often done to others. My mistress always
says it is a happy thing for those who rest peacefully in their quiet
graves. But what have you done with the bodies of the two wicked
men?'
At this question a sudden change came over the miller's wife. A bright
colour rose to her pale face, her eyes sparkled, and her hands clenched
themselves tightly, as her trembling lips gave utterance to the words,
'They lie out there, behind the barn, waiting till the executioner comes
to bury them.'
In the meantime the room had filled with country people, who had
strolled into the mill on hearing that the child's coffin had arrived.
'H'm!' said the young carpenter; 'are