however, that it was necessary to know where they dwelt, he turned back, and went along with them. After some time, they came to a house in a very great wood, where the thieves lived with a young girl who was their sister. On their arrival they took off from Tim his rough country caftan and breeches, and clothed him in habiliments of the very best quality, and regaled the old man with plenty of capital wine. So the old man, after staying an hour or two, left their dwelling quite happy and content.
As soon as it was night, the thieves thought that they would give Tim his first lesson in their art, so arming him in the same manner as they did themselves, with a pike and a long knife, they went out on the road. As soon as they were got there, one of the masters said to the pupil:
“Suppose, now, any people were to attack us, what would you do, Tim?”
“What’s this for?” said he, grasping his knife; “with this I don’t care a straw for a dozen men.”
“It will be of service to you, no doubt, some time or other,” said the thieves; “it will be best, however, that your first essay be in something not quite so dangerous as levying taxes on the highways generally is. We will go to the neighbouring monastery, and break into the treasury of the Archimandrite; we shall find there quite enough to enrich us.”
“O! just as you please,” cried Timoney; “where the master goes the ’prentice follows.”
So away they went, all three in high spirits. When they came to the cloister, they flung an iron hook upon the roof of the treasure-room, and Tim climbing up by means of a rope which was attached to it, at once gave proof that he was anything but a dull pupil. In a trice, a hole was made in the roof—the chests in the treasury were broken open—money-bags were piled up upon the floor, and then flung down out of the treasury upon the ground, where they were gathered up by Tim’s comrades, and what had taken a long series of years to acquire was in a few minutes lost to the proprietor. All would have gone on in the smoothest manner in the world, provided Tim had been anything of a fool. But he knew perfectly well that his friends below would take all the money by virtue of being his instructors, and would not give him a share; he, therefore, took from out of a chest the cloak of the Archimandrite, which was made of the choicest sable-skin, and flung it out of the hole upon the ground, intending it for himself, but had no sooner done so, than one of his masters took it up and put it on. Tim then, letting himself down began to feel for the cloak upon the ground, for it was very dark.
“What are you groping for?” said his masters.
“I am seeking for my cloak,” answered Tim.
“What do you mean by calling it yours?” said one. “I have put it on myself. How should it belong to you?”
“Because,” said Tim, “I took it for myself, and not for you.”
“But we are your instructors,” said they, “consequently whatever you take belongs to us.”
“O! no,” cried he, with a loud voice. “I got the money for you, it is true, and no share of that belongs to me, but the cloak is mine.”
“You lie, fool,” said they.
“O! if you talk in that manner,” said Tim, “I will go and ask the Archimandrite, and the one to whom he adjudges it shall have the cloak.”
“Let’s see how you’ll go to work,” said they.
“You shall,” said he, “only don’t be afraid.”
Thereupon, he went to the window of the cell in which the Archimandrite and his servant slept, the latter a very lively lad, and a great teller of pleasant stories. Tim peeping in, perceived that the Archimandrite was asleep, and snoring like a hedgehog, but the lad was awake. Tim tapped with his finger against the window, whereupon the lad got up and looked out, but before he could ask who was there, Tim seized him by the ears with both his hands, dragged him out, and tying a handkerchief over his mouth, delivered him to the custody of his associates. Then climbing softly in at the window, he lay down in the young fellow’s bed. After waiting a little time, he fell to arousing the Archimandrite. His masters who were listening under the window, hearing him try to awake the ghostly man, begged him to come out
“What are you about?” they cried. “The devil take you and the cloak, too! Woe is us, that we ever came here with you!”
But without attending to them, he cried:
“Father Archimandrite! your reverence!”
“Hey! what!” replied the Archimandrite, in a voice half-suffocated with sleep.
“I have had a very bad dream,” said Tim, “I dreamt that thieves broke into the treasure-room, and carried away all the money, and also your cloak of sable. He who climbed up to steal the treasure, took the cloak out of the box, intending it for himself. He gave his comrades all the money, and only wanted to keep the cloak; but they refused to give it him. Now, who do you say should have the cloak?”
The Archimandrite imagining that it was his chamberlain who was speaking to him, cried:
“Oh, how tiresome you are! People are sure to dream at night. Pray don’t trouble my rest.”
Tim was silent for a time, but no sooner had the Archimandrite fallen asleep again, than he again awoke him, crying:
“Whom is the cloak to be given to?”
“Oh, you tiresome fellow!” cried the Archimandrite. “Well, if you must know, I would have it given to him who broke in. But, pray, let me sleep.”
Tim troubled him no more, and as soon as he was fast asleep got out of the window and took possession of the cloak without any opposition from his teachers, who extolled his cleverness to the skies. They set out for home, and the first thing they did when they arrived was to hide their booty. After this adventure, Tim’s masters frequently discoursed with each other about their apprentice. His address and cleverness pleased them exceedingly. They hoped that he would be of the greatest assistance to them, and in order to keep him with them, they determined to give him their sister, who was rather a pretty girl. When they declared their mind to Tim, he was far from refusing so good a match, for
