PHILIPPE SLEPT IN THE HAYPHILIPPE SLEPT IN THE HAY
"It was the best fair of the year," said one.
CANAL AND SHEEP, A VIEW OF BELGIAN COUNTRYSIDECANAL AND SHEEP, A VIEW OF BELGIAN COUNTRYSIDE
In Belgium there are many fairs all the year round.
"Ah, ho, hum!" yawned the other man. "But we stayed in Ghent so long! Now we shall have only a short time to sleep before starting the day's work."
"Never mind," the other man declared, "it was worth the drive. And besides, the fair is leaving Ghent tomorrow."
Philippe put his chin on his elbow and listened. Then the man began to sing:
"I wouldn't be a lettuceWith my head all thrown about."
"I wouldn't be a lettuceWith my head all thrown about."
"That was the song that the gypsy girl sang; wasn't it?" asked the other.
"Yes," replied the first.
Philippe could hardly believe what he heard. That was his song! He had taught that song to Rose! Zelie must be singing his songs at the fair in Ghent.
Philippe was about to call down to the men. Then he stopped. They might mistake him for a tramp. They might do him some harm. No; he must be careful.
Then, yawning sleepily, the two men stamped out of the barn. Philippe heard the door closing behind them.
The only sound now was the crunch-crunching of the horse. But even that did not remind Philippe of his hunger. He could think of only one thing. He must reach Ghent as quickly as possible! He must find his friends before they left. He must join them at the fair in Ghent.
Philippe rose and went down into the barn. The men had locked the door; but there was a tiny window above the horse's stall. Through this, the boy first pushed Trompke. Then he started to climb through it himself.
"Come, Trompke," he called. "We mustwalk to Ghent. There is no time to lose. We must get there before the fair moves on."
HE STARTED THROUGH THE WINDOWHE STARTED THROUGH THE WINDOW
Dawn was in the sky as the boy and his dog trudged wearily along the road. They were in the famous flax-growing district of Belgium. There were many glistening canalsand rows of tall trees. They crossed bridges and passed low farmhouses with red roofs. But not once did Philippe stop.
Though his legs ached, never once did the boy give in. Trompke's tongue swept the ground. He was too tired to bark even at birds and chickens.
They passed fields of flax. This flax is sent to the factories of Ghent where it is made into fine linen.
The word "Ghent" is taken from the French word "gant," meaning "glove." Ghent was once famous for glove making. But today the lace and linen trades are more popular.
At last Philippe could see the outline of houses in the distance. It was bright sunlight now. There was smoke curling up from chimneys. People were cooking breakfast in Ghent.
HARVESTING GRAIN BY HAND IN BELGIUMHARVESTING GRAIN BY HAND IN BELGIUM
Philippe could not let himself think of that. To the market place he went.
"Where is the fair?" he asked a passerby.
"It left Ghent last night," was the answer. "It will be in Bruges (brōō'jez) for three days, and I only wish I could go there and see it again."
Philippe did not hear the last remark. He had already turned. Everything had begun to whirl about him. But he stumbled on, on.
"We must follow them to Bruges, Trompke," he said, bravely.
But Trompke lay down on the sidewalk with his head between his paws. His tongue was lolling. His eyes said, "Not I! I stay!"
But Philippe was already walking away. Trompke arose wearily and followed. What dog has the right to refuse the commands of a boy? It is true that in this case the dog was more sensible than the boy.
For Philippe was completely worn out. He was so tired and hungry, he could scarcely think. It would have been better had he rested awhile.
But all he could think of was finding Tom and Zelie and joining them.
Philippe approached the great Convent of Ghent. This convent is different from most convents. It is like a little village where each sister has her own cosy house. These sisters have given up the life of the world. They live their own lives in this City of Sisters. They spend their time making beautiful laces, doing charity work and going to church.
Philippe had heard of the convent in Ghent. He had seen some of the sisters in Brussels at times. He knew they were kind and he determined to enter one of their homes and ask for food.
At the gate of the convent, Philippe met anelderly sister. She wore a long black gown and a snow-white cap. Her face was ruddy and wrinkled. She smiled at Philippe and stopped.
"You look tired, little one," she said.
Philippe answered, "I have walked many miles. I am hungry."
The sister then led him into her wee house. It looked like a gingerbread house. It was like all the other houses at the convent. It was made of brick.
"Come, let me give you some broth," said the sister kindly.
And she gave Philippe a bowl of delicious broth. They sat together in her neat little room.
When Philippe finished the broth he said, "Thank you, my sister. You are very kind." Then he told her his story.
"I must go on to Bruges," he finished"For the fair is in Bruges, and I shall find my friends there."
THE GREAT CONVENT OF GHENTTHE GREAT CONVENT OF GHENT
The sister looked serious.
"My boy, does your mother know what you are doing?" she asked.
Philippe shook his head slowly and said, "But I shall write to her now if you will please give me a pen and some paper."
After he had written to his parents, the boy looked up and found the good sister's gaze upon him.
"Why don't you give up this idea and go home?" she asked.
But Philippe laughed.
"Oh, no," he replied, "I could not do that now. Why, Tom says I shall make great sums of money! Tom is a fine fellow! Oh, my parents will be glad that I went, when I make them rich."
But still the sister seemed worried.
"Stay with me a day or so," she urged. "You are worn out with your long walk. Let me give you rest and food. Then perhaps we may find a way to send you to Bruges."
Philippe patted her rough, capable hand.
"Thank you, my sister," he said, "but I must waste no time."
Then the sister arose and went to a littletable. She took from a drawer a linen bag. From the bag she brought forth some money.
SISTERS OF THE CONVENTSISTERS OF THE CONVENT
Handing it to Philippe, she said, "Take this, little one, and ride to Bruges on it. That way you will reach your friends quickly and save your strength."
Philippe hesitated at first.
Then he took the money and said, "I can never thank you enough. But I shall return this money to you. You shall see."
After Philippe had washed and prepared to leave, he said to his new friend, "I have heard so much about the fine lace which is made by the sisters of the convent. May I see some of it?"
The good woman smiled and led the boy to another room to show him her work.
But suddenly Philippe started and looked about him with troubled eyes.
"My sister!" he cried, "I had a little dog. I almost forgot about him!"
"I saw your little dog," the sister answered. "He came in with you. But now he has disappeared."
Philippe began calling, "Trompke! Trompke!"
The sister helped him search the house.
"I cannot imagine where he went," exclaimed the sister.
Then they saw a strange sight.
From the big workbasket, where the sister kept her lace, came Trompke. He was completely wrapped in beautiful lace. He looked like a bride. His train was long and flowing. Upon his head was a lace cap. His dog face peered forth anxiously.
HIS DOG FACE PEERED FORTH ANXIOUSLYHIS DOG FACE PEERED FORTH ANXIOUSLY
His tail stirred the lace train as it wagged, as if it were asking, "Were you looking for me?" For, you know, dogs speak with their tails.
Trompke waddled up to Philippe and continued to talk in tail language as if he were saying, "I was fast asleep in the workbasket. I was very tired. The lace was soft."
As soon as Philippe recovered from his amazement, he fell on his knees and began to untangle the lace from the dog's body.
"Oh, Trompke! Shame, Trompke!" he cried.
But the sister was laughing so hard that her kind, red face grew even redder than usual.
"Do not scold him," she said, "He did no harm. Oh, what a funny sight!"
And again the good sister went into peals of laughter. Her mirth started Philippe to thinking. A plan was forming in his mind.
Suddenly he jumped to his feet and exclaimed, "My sister, I have thought of a plan!"
The sister wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. She listened to the boy.
"It suddenly came to me as you were laughing," he said, "that if the sight of Trompke seemed so funny to you, why would it not be funny to others?"
The sister gave signs of exploding again at the mention of lace-gowned Trompke.
But Philippe went on, "Give me some ofyour lace. I will dress Trompke as a bride in the market place of Bruges. People will stop. And when they stop, I shall sell themyour lace. I shall be able, then, to repay you."
The sister looked into Philippe's eyes. She seemed much interested in what he had said.
She replied, "You have thought of a very clever plan. You are one who will make much of your life. That is plain to see."
Without wasting any time, the sister and Philippe prepared for the boy's journey.
Soon Philippe was leaving the tiny house with a bundle of lace tucked under his arm. His good friend walked with him as far as the gates of the convent.
As Philippe looked back, he saw the sister standing at the big iron gates, waving to him.
She looked after him and thought, "What a clever little fellow he is!"
She did not know what a disobedient little fellow Philippe really was. Also, she did not know that she was sending him to a thief.But then, neither did Philippe know this. He had told her that Tom and Zelie were his friends and that they were fine people. Philippe honestly believed this.
As he walked, he turned every little while to wave back to the sister. At last the City of Sisters faded from sight.
Philippe traveled comfortably to Bruges. Thanks to his friend, the sister, he rode in a train. He left the glass-roofed station of Ghent, and soon the train was speeding through flat, fertile country. It was not long before the old city of Bruges loomed into sight.
The word "Bruges" means "Bridges," and it is no wonder that the city bears that name. For everywhere one looks, one sees a bridge.
Bruges is a very old city. Once, long years ago, it was a famous port. Fabrics of many kinds came into Bruges. Famous Belgian laces and linens were shipped from there to other countries.
ANCIENT CITY GATE, BRUGESANCIENT CITY GATE, BRUGES
But since the discovery of America, Bruges has been very quiet. For with the discovery of the new world came a great change. There came new methods of trading. Bruges sank back upon her bridges and let the rest of the world go by.
Philippe sat in his railway coach. He looked out of the window and thought how very gray and dull the old city looked.
"I should not like to be alone on those old cobbled streets at night," he shivered.
The tall steeples of the old churches threw shadows. Ghosts of knights in armor might well prowl those streets! Again Philippe shuddered.
He began to be a little homesick. He began to think about his mother and Papa Pomme and Baby Rose. He had disobeyed his parents. He had left those two kind gentlemen without saying a word.
What would they think of him? Philippe knew that he had done wrong. But somehow he knew that he was going to keep right on until he found Tom and Zelie. He could not give up now.
The train pulled into the station and stopped. The boy started out in search of the fair. To the market place he went. Crowds were there. It was a gay sight. Booths were everywhere. There were merry-go-rounds and swinging boats and shooting galleries and candy stands.
Children were all about, laughing, singing, eating. Philippe's eye was trained, and he knew market places. He had spent most of his life in one. So he found a spot for himself and began to dress the dog, Trompke.
Trompke disapproved. But Philippe won the battle, and soon the dog was dressed inlace cap and veil. His worried, wrinkled face looked out from under the dainty lace cap. His tail wiggled the handsome lacy train.
Philippe sang to attract the crowds and soon people began to stop and to laugh at Trompke. All the time Philippe was looking about him, while his heart beat fast.
Perhaps a few feet away from him were his friends. He hoped that he would find them. Perhaps Zelie had sung to the same people who were now laughing at Trompke.
The boy examined every booth. But there was no sign of Tom or Zelie.
Meanwhile the sister's lace was selling fast. People stopped to laugh and to pet Trompke. The little boy explained to them about the lace.
"The finest lace in all the world, madam," said he, "made by the sisters in Ghent. A very excellent bargain."
Philippe sold all his lace and found his pockets bulging with money. How pleased the good sister would be!
HE DRESSED TROMPKE AS A BRIDEHE DRESSED TROMPKE AS A BRIDE
Besides, he had made extra money for himself. People gave him extra money because they liked his sweet voice and because Trompke made them laugh.
But the heart of Philippe was heavy. He had not seen Tom and Zelie! He was in a strange city; he was far from home, and it was growing late.
Philippe now walked slowly to the post office. Here he sent away two letters. One was to his father.
He told his father not to worry about him. He said that he could not return to Brussels because he was going to make his way and send them a great deal of money. He enclosed some bills in the envelope, and he felt proud.
The other letter was to the sister and contained the money in payment for the laces and also payment of the amount the sister had loaned him.
He still had money in his pocket. He bought food. But Trompke ate most of it. Somehow Philippe did not feel hungry. He was too excited.
The shadows were falling in Bruges. The high towers were reflected in the canals. The city was slowly being covered by night.
A terrible, lonesome feeling came over Philippe as he watched the darkness stealing on. How could he stay all night in the ghostly darkness of this old city? His teeth began to chatter.
A boy about his own age came up to him.
"Where are you going?" asked the boy.
"I don't know," answered Philippe truthfully.
"You don't know?" the boy laughed. "Then let me take you somewhere. Have you some money?"
VIEW OF A CANAL FROM THE ROSARY DOCK, BRUGESVIEW OF A CANAL FROM THE ROSARY DOCK, BRUGES
Philippe showed the stranger his money.
"We can go to the cinema," smiled the boy eagerly.
So Philippe was taken to a theater by his new companion. Philippe was tired and discouraged and sank down in his seat with a sigh. He wanted to go home.
He was afraid of the dark city and the strange shadows. He knew he had done wrong. Now he was ready to give up.
But as he watched the flickering shadow people on the screen, he thought of that other film which he had seen with his father. He remembered the brave Belgian soldiers and the heroic King Albert. Then he had wanted to be a hero, too. But now he was acting like a coward.
This film story was a romance with knights on fiery steeds. What adventure those brave knights had! They did not give up and gohome. They came home in glory and each married a princess!
Philippe sat up straight. He saw himself as one of those knights. Then he turned suddenly to the boy next to him.
HE SAW HIMSELF AS A KNIGHTHE SAW HIMSELF AS A KNIGHT
"Did you see a man and a girl with an organ today at the fair?" he asked.
"Yes," replied the boy at his side, "They were at the fair, and the girl sang."
"Did you notice which way they went when they left the market place?" Philippe demanded quickly.
"Well—" hesitated the other, "I did see them going down—Oh, don't bother me now. I want to see the film," he added irritably.
But Philippe had him by the shoulders.
"Come out of here," he ordered.
The boy was too amazed to refuse. Together the two marched out of the theater.
On the sidewalk Philippe seized the boy'sarm and said to him, "I must find those people. Do you understand? Now, you've got to think which way you saw them go!"
After Philippe had told his story and explained about Tom and Zelie, the other boy remarked, "Well, my friends and I followedthe organ man to a narrow little street where the poorest people live. The place was very dark, even in the daytime. It frightened some of the little children; so we left. We did not stay to see where the organ man went."
Philippe thanked his new acquaintance, and the boy was glad to go back to his seat in the theater.
Philippe followed directions, and soon he was in the dingy little street in which Tom and Zelie had disappeared.
No one was about. It was the blackest, most silent place Philippe had ever been in. He and his dog huddled beside a wall. There was nobody whom he could ask for information. Had he the courage to ring a doorbell?
He started toward a door. His finger was about to push the bell when a voice called to him. The voice came from above.
Philippe looked up, and there was Tom!
He was looking out of a window. It was so dark that Philippe could not see Tom's face very clearly. But his voice was cheery.
"Hello, my lad," he called. "So you've come to us at last!"
Philippe ran up the steps, and Tom let him into the house. It was a poor house and smelled musty and old.
Tom was very pleased to see the boy.
"I knew that some day you would come," he said, slapping Philippe on the back. "You are a fine brave lad, and we shall have a splendid life together, wandering on the road."
"YOU ARE A FINE, BRAVE LAD""YOU ARE A FINE, BRAVE LAD"
"Where is Zelie?" asked Philippe.
"Ah, she will soon be home. She is so busy. She works very late sometimes," answered Tom smiling.
"What does she do?" Philippe asked after a little silence.
"She plays the organ, and she sings," the man replied. "Now, you shall join her, and together you two should bring in much money."
His eyes gleamed. Philippe did not feel very happy. But he could not tell why. Perhaps he was just tired, and tomorrow all would be well.
Then suddenly from the street below, there came a howl. Philippe ran to the window and saw his dog, Trompke, below. The fat puppy was whimpering and calling his master. He had been forgotten outside.
Philippe smiled at Tom.
"That is my Trompke," he said.
They opened the door, and the puppy flew up the steps into Philippe's arms. Philippe stroked him, and then he told Tom how Trompke had helped him to sell the sister's lace. Tom was delighted.
"What a bright boy you are!" he exclaimed. "You shall continue selling lace for me. That is a splendid plan."
Just then Zelie came home. She seemed thinner and paler than when Philippe had last seen her. She did not talk very much, but her face lit up when she saw Philippe.
"I am so glad you have come," she said."We shall have such good times together."
Tom grinned broadly.
"Yes, indeed," he agreed. "There is a fair in Ostend (ŏst-ĕnd'), so we four shall start our wanderings tomorrow."
"We four?" asked Zelie.
She had not noticed Trompke. The puppy was curled up behind a chair.
"WE FOUR SHALL START OUR WANDERINGS TOMORROW""WE FOUR SHALL START OUR WANDERINGS TOMORROW"
"Yes," smiled Tom slyly. "The little dog is to be one of our party, and a very important one, too. Eh, Philippe, my boy?"
Philippe smiled and began to feel happier. At last he was going to do the thing he had always dreamed of doing. At last he was going to travel with Tom and Zelie.
So Tom went out next day and purchased some lace at a very cheap price. He and the two children packed their things, and started on their journey.
Philippe's plan succeeded, and Tom was delighted with the way the lace-gowned dog drew the crowds. Philippe and Zelie sang together, and people thought the two children very attractive. They brought in much money for Tom.
From town to town they traveled.
Tom always seemed gay and pleasant. The only times he ever showed his ill nature was when the children did not bring in enough money. Then his scowls were very disagreeable to see. But usually he was pleased with what Philippe and Zelie and Trompke made.
They arrived at the fair in Ostend, a famous beach resort of Belgium. They attracted the attention of many children along the wide beach. Here they saw hundreds of bathing machines.
BATHING BEACH AT OSTENDBATHING BEACH AT OSTEND
These machines are little houses on wheels, in which people dress and undress. Horses are hitched to the houses. They pull them to the water's edge, where the bathers jump into the sea for their swim.
From Ostend they journeyed to Courtrai (kōō-trĕ') and the flax fields.
Philippe noticed how much the Belgian people living near the border of France resemble the French people.
In sections of Belgium close to Holland, the people wear wooden shoes and look very Dutch. Their language, Flemish, is indeedalmost the same as the Dutch language.
As they wandered through the Belgian villages the smell of cows and fresh hay greeted their nostrils.
Nearly everyone is poor in these villages. The women wear bedroom slippers in the street.
They now came to Tournai (toor-nĕ'), which is one of the most ancient towns in Belgium. It dates from the time of Julius Caesar.
As they approached the city of Mons, (môns) they passed great coal mines. These mines were taken over by the Germans during the World War.
While armies were fighting in France and destroying French property, Belgian farms and factories were being well run by the Germans. That is why our travelers, wandering over the country of Belgium, saw few ruins.
They trudged along black roads and passed great chimney stacks.
Several times Philippe had sent money home to his parents.
But one day Tom said, "I must ask you to give me all the money you make. It is I who feed and clothe you. And now you belong to me."
Philippe had a strange feeling then.
He answered, "But I must send my parents some of what I make. It is only fair."
Tom scowled fearfully and snapped, "You will do as I say!"
After that time Philippe worried. He told Zelie, but she said nothing. She looked very sad, however.
Then one evening while they were having supper by the side of the road, Tom announced, "It is time that Philippe learned our business, eh, Zelie?"
Zelie started and turned very pale, but she did not answer.
"Listen," continued Tom. He leaned over toward Philippe. "Do you see that farm over there?"
He pointed to a little peaceful-looking farm in the distance. Philippe nodded. He wondered what Tom was going to say. Tom had never talked like this before.
"Tonight we shall go to that farm," Tom went on, "and we shall take a wheelbarrow along, and we shall help ourselves to all the fine vegetables there. Tomorrow we shall set up in the market place. You have sold vegetables in market places before, eh, my Philippe?"
But the boy could not answer. He was horrified.
It all came to him then. This was the vegetable thief—the man who had stolen his ownfather's vegetables! Tom! Oh, what a foolish boy he had been! Why hadn't he listened to his parents? He was traveling with a thief!
Tom said in an irritable voice, "Come on, boy! Don't stare at me like that! Wake up, and we shall teach you!"
But Philippe had jumped up quickly andstood before Tom. His fists were clenched and his cheeks burned.
"No, no! I won't steal," he cried. "It is wicked to steal! I will not help you!"
Tom only smiled calmly.
"NO, NO! I WON'T STEAL!""NO, NO! I WON'T STEAL!"
Then he said, "Oh, very well, my boy. Do not excite yourself. You need not come along, since you feel that way. Zelie and I have always done well. We can still get along without you. You shall do your work by singing, and we by stealing. That is simple."
But Philippe was angry.
"Oh, you wicked man!" he cried. "I will not stay with you any longer. I am going home!"
Then Tom caught hold of the boy's arm. Tom's eyes flashed.
"No!" he said firmly, "No. You had better not try that. You are mine, and you shall stay with me!"
That night Tom locked Philippe in the room of a little hotel while he and Zelie went to the farm.
Philippe wrote a letter to his father. He told all of what had happened. He begged forgiveness and asked his father to come and get him.
But when Tom returned, he found the letter and burned it.
"Do not try any tricks," he said, "for you will be sorry."
He yawned sleepily and went to bed.
When Philippe heard Tom's snores, he tried to run away. But Zelie stopped him at the door.
"Don't go," she said. "Please don't go. He will find you, and then he will beat you."
"How do you know?" asked Philippe.
"Because," Zelie replied, "he has done it to me!"
And then Philippe knew why Zelie's eyes were so sad and held a look of fear.
"Oh, Zelie," Philippe cried, "I am so sorry for you. You are so brave."
Zelie then began to cry softly.
"Sometimes I am very sad," she sobbed."That is why I was so glad to see you. Before you came, oh, he made me work so hard!"
"Do not cry, Zelie," said Philippe, "but tell me all about it. I will protect you."
"DO NOT CRY, ZELIE""DO NOT CRY, ZELIE"
Philippe suddenly felt very brave. He felt like one of those knights he had seen in the film. He felt like a hero out of a fairy tale. He knew that he was only a boy, but he had great courage, and he wanted to protect Zelie.
"We two will escape," he promised the girl. "You'll see. Now tell me everything."
Then Zelie told Philippe that Tom was not really her father.
"My mother and father died when I was a baby," she told him, "and this man is my uncle. Oh, he is a very bad man, and he has made me steal, and if he ever should catch us trying to escape—oh, oh!"
The poor little girl again began to sob.
"Stop, Zelie," urged Philippe. "I have a plan, and we will escape."
Zelie dried her eyes. Then she went to her room, and Philippe started to think.
Philippe tried several times after that to post a letter. But Tom's eyes were very keen, and he seemed to see everything at once.
Ever since that day, Tom had watched Philippe all the time. But the man acted no differently than before. He whistled a great deal and was pleased with the money that the children brought in.
HE WHISTLED A GREAT DEALHE WHISTLED A GREAT DEAL
Still he worked them harder than ever. Often Philippe's legs ached with standing so long. Often his throat was sore with singing.
He knew that he was being punished for his disobedience. He knew that if he ever escaped from this wicked man he would always obey his parents.
Tom often joked with Philippe, and the boy told him stories about the country through which they traveled. But all the while, Tom did not know what plans were shaping in Philippe's head.
One day as they tramped along, Philippe carried a letter in his pocket. The letter wasto Papa Pomme. Philippe was planning to post the letter when they reached Charleroi (shär-le-roi'), in the evening.
In it he told Papa Pomme everything. But he told him not to worry, that he was well, and also that he was laying a plan to capture the thief.
Part of Philippe's letter read: "I shall try to make him spend Monday night in the Cave of the Crows. That is the big rock between Namur (nâ-mür') and Dinant (dē-nän'). Send some one to that place, for if my plan succeeds we shall be there."
ON THE ROAD TO DINANTON THE ROAD TO DINANT
The Cave of the Crows is a mysterious rock out on the open road. There is a folk tale connected with it, and part of Philippe's plan was to tell this tale to Tom.
As they walked along, the boy kept thinking over his plan.
A VIEW IN DINANT, A VERY OLD CITYA VIEW IN DINANT, A VERY OLD CITY
"If only I can persuade him to spend Monday night there!" Philippe mused earnestly.
They reached Charleroi, after passing the country of the iron workers.
Philippe found this part of the country different from that around Antwerp and Brussels. To him even the people seemed different. Here he found pine and birch trees and little stone houses.
Most of the people in northern Belgium are blond and large. Here they are dark and smaller and more lively.
Once in Charleroi, Philippe explained to Zelie what he wanted her to do. Zelie agreed to follow out the plan, and Philippe gave her the letter.
Then Philippe started to run down the street.
Zelie cried out to Tom, "Look! Quick! Philippe is running away!"
Tom was after the boy in a second, andZelie quickly slipped Philippe's letter to Papa Pomme into the mail box.
But poor Philippe had to pay for this trick. Tom locked him up all day and gave him only bread and water.
Yet the boy's heart leaped with joy. Now the letter was off. It only remained for him to persuade Tom to spend the night in the cave.
It was pleasant country through which they were passing. Along the banks of the Sambre (sän'-br) River, they saw many women washing clothes. Men on barges waved and called to them. These men seemed a happy lot. Old castles loomed up.
Monday arrived. The three travelers were nearing the Cave of the Crows.
"Have you ever heard the story of the Cave of the Crows, sir?" asked Philippe.
"No," replied Tom. "Tell it to me."
He liked Philippe's stories. The little fellow had entertained him with many.
"They say," began Philippe, "that long, long years ago a wandering poet passed this cave, and there he met a beautiful fairy. He fell in love with her and she with him. They married and lived in the cave together.
"But one day the fairy was called to a gathering in fairyland. The other fairies were angry to learn that she had married a mortal. As a punishment the poor fairy was changed into an ugly black crow with a hoarse, terrible voice.
"She returned to the cave to her poet and found him also changed into a crow. But this did not spoil their love for each other. They lived happily in the cave for years and years, and they had many children. There are thousands of black crows flying about the cave, shrieking and cawing. These are thedescendants of the poet and the poor fairy."
Tom shuddered.
"A very good place from which to keep away!" he laughed.
"Oh, no," replied Philippe. "On the contrary, I should like to go there. I should like to go," he added mysteriously, "because it is said that whoever spends a night in the cave will find a bag of gold in the morning."
Tom's eyes sparkled. Philippe's heart beat quickly.
He continued, "Yes, it is believed that robbers once buried a bag of gold in the cave. Anyone who is brave enough to spend a night there may have it."
Tom smiled, but looked doubtful.
"Let us go there, sir," suggested Philippe. "In the morning you shall find that bag of gold."
Tom thought awhile but did not reply. Theboy nearly cried out in eagerness. Oh, if only the man would consent to do this thing!