on the herdsman to help him in his perplexing
plight; and having released himself, with the
assistance of his steed, from the swamp, he rode
as fast as he could towards the herdsman; but
as he drew nearer and nearer the number of the
swine seemed to diminish—he had been deceived
by the distance—and at last he found that only
three were in the keeping of the man. But he
did not concern himself with this, and earnestly
entreated the herdsman to lend a hand, with
council and deed. The herdsman but stipulated
that Janko should, in the mean time, take
charge of the swine. " I know," he said, " every
spot in the morass, its depth and its shallows,
as if I had seen the birth and growth of each.
Be not anxious, therefore; I will so safely
bring out the horses and carriage that not
a spot of dirt shall you see upon either."
And then he left Janko, to rescue the
unfortunate beasts; but the crafty fellow soon
perceived that his three pigs were of far
less value than the horses and the carriage,
and that he might make a profitable exchange,
as he really knew how to find his way through
the rushes. So he mounted the box of the
carriage and guided the horses safely to a dry
side of the bog; but flung his hat into what he
knew to be the deepest part, where there was
a water eddy. He did this in order to convince
the possessor of the despoiled property that he
and the horses had been drowned, and that any
farther pursuit would be fruitless.

And so he journeyed over hill and dale,
while Janko was impatiently expecting his return.
He became weary of waiting; and all the more
weary when, having gone out of the wood, and
looked all around towards the bog, not a sign
could he see of carriage, or horse, or herdsman.
He lingered for hours, he whistled, he
shouted, and at last determined to abandon the
pigs, to mount his horse, and to ride to the
scene of his misadventure.

Miserable were his feelings, great his alarm
when he perceived nothing but the swineherd's
hat floating on the water. In many places he
could perceive the tracks which the wheels of
his carriage had left behind; he followed them
as they gradually disappeared, and were wholly
lost as they entered the deep water, into which
his steed sank down to the saddle-girths. This
was indeed a warning—all the more alarming
when he saw the hat whirled about by the
motion of the eddy, and he lost all heart to
pursue his researches further. After many sighs
and sorrowings, he began to think of the safety
of himself and his steed, and to congratulate
himself that he had been able to rescue so much.
He turned back, made his way through the
recesses of the forest, and reached a heath where
there was a little hillock, surrounded by bushes
and heather. Upon this hillock he saw a feeble
form, which seemed busy in moving from one
side to the other, and looked towards him with
marked attention.

Approaching her, he found she was a dark-
brown gipsy woman, who hastened towards
him, weeping and wringing her hands, and
implored him to help her in her great need.
"Dear, beautiful, golden gentleman!" she
cried, while her eyes were steadily fixed upon
his costly uniform, " save me from despair, or
you will see me perish at your feet from suffering
and sorrow. My husband sent me with a
sack of jews'-harps which he had got ready for
a tradesman in the city, and on which he had
received the money. Tired with the sun's heat
and the long journey, I went to the well in
order to quench my thirst, and while I was
bending over the opening my sack unfortunately
fell into the water. Woe is me!" she said, weeping—
"woe is me! Sure I am that if I do not
bring back the sack to my husband it will cost
me my life! Help me, golden gentleman! help
me! Heaven will reward you a thousand-fold."

Janko, whose own misfortunes disposed him
to sympathise more feelingly with the
misfortunes of others, determined to lend any
possible assistance to the poor supplicating woman.
He remembered, too, the promise of the preacher,
and was so touched with the tears and entreaties
of the gipsy that he dismounted from his horse,
and said he was quite ready to help her. The
well did not appear very deep, so he undressed
himself, gave his uniform, his money, and his
steed to the keeping of the woman until he
should have rescued the sack, then tied himself
to the rope to which the bucket was attached,
and lowered himself down into the well.

The water reached up to his throat; but the
well was there as high above the water, and it
may easily be believed that the ascent was far
more difficult than the descent had been.
Moreover, the spring was so cold that Janko's
teeth began to chatter, and he feared that in a
few minutes he might be frozen. Meanwhile
he felt about carefully with his feet, to discover
the lost bag, and several times he fancied he
had reached it; but he could bring up nothing
but stones and bones which, from time to time,
had fallen into the well. As he could neither
find the gipsy's bag, nor bear any longer the
cold water, he seized the rope in order to drag
himself up to the top. How terrible was his
fright when, after he had mounted only a foot
or two, the rope suddenly broke, and he fell
plump into the icy bath. He cried, he cursed,
he howled; but no answer reached his ears.
It was the crafty gipsy who had cut the rope
in two, had sprung upon his horse, and before
Janko had even thought of ascending, had
taken flight with garments and gold.

What was he to do in his misery and his
abandonment? He struggled against the brick
wall with his stiffened limbs, held on as well as
he could with hands and feet, but fell again to
the bottom. His strength failed him—he had
no longer the power of utterance; teeth
chattering and groaning were all that remained to
him of life.

He lay many hours in this wretched plight,
expecting every moment to give up the ghost;
and the more forlorn was his condition as the
night began to darken over him, and every ray
of hope seemed extinguished in his soul.