26 CHAMOIS HUNTING. 



had written the books, and made poems and Schnada- 

 hupfln." She was quite pleased to hear that I did ; 

 and, seeming to think that on this account I must be 

 better worth speaking to, began chatting with me. 



" A merry comrade that/' said I. " Merry !" she 

 exclaimed, " Merry ! 'faith, that he is indeed ; and how 

 he can touch the cithern, and sing Schnadahiipfm*! 

 There are not many such as he !" And then turning 

 to my neighbour, "And you, Meier, you can't sing ?" 



"No." 



"Nor play the cithern?" 



" No." 



" Nor whistle a merry tune ?" 



" No." 



" A pretty fellow, truly ! a Jager and not sing ! 

 But where 's Max gone? He could do everything, 

 and he was right merry too, and full of jokes !" 



"And who is this Max?" I asked. 



" A young forester, very different to Meier there, 

 who can do nothing !" she answered, laughing. " He 

 could play the cithern, and sing songs, one merrier than 

 the other, and whistle too 'twas like a blackbird to 

 hear him ! And then he danced, and how he would 

 make us all laugh with his stories ! and he was such a 

 good-looking young fellow too much better-looking 



seemed to be a passport to their good opinion, and the heartiest grew 

 still more hearty than before. Especially among the foresters the 

 latter name had a mighty influence ; and when they heard that we 

 had often shot a good stag or wild boar together, they looked on 

 me as being " a good man and a true," and drew nearer and talked 

 more familiarly. 



* See a later Chapter. 



