the thing must be done in the night-time, you see. I will tell you all about it when we next meet, but in the meantime I must go for it strikes seven.”
The old soldier gave William a few braces of balls before limping off and disappearing from his sight in the forest. The young man tried another shot and hit at a wonderful distance with one of his new balls, but uniformly missed with those of his own casting. He now hastened after the old soldier to learn his mode of casting bullets, but he was gone and nowhere to be seen.
There was great gladness in the old forester’s house when William came home with such a load of venison as once more satisfied father Bertram that the youth of his daughter’s choice would yet prove himself worthy of his house. He should have embraced the opportunity now afforded him for explaining the whole matter, and have taken his friends’ advice upon it; but instead of this he carefully concealed his interview with the old soldier, and said nothing about the wonderful bullets. He alleged, however, that he had discovered the cause of his late bad luck in a flaw in his gun which he had not noticed before.
“Now, dame,” quoth the forester gaily to his wife, “who is wrong now? The witchcraft lay in the gun itself, it appears, and I shrewdly suspect the little devil that you thought knocked down father Kuno’s picture this morning might yet be detected in a rust-eaten nail.”
“What do you say about a devil?” inquired William.
“Nothing,” replied the old man. “That picture there fell
