Seite - 102 - in The Forest Farm - Tales of the Austrian Tyrol

where he went? He was going home to his wood-cutting in Fischbacherwald. “Where had he been?” In Krieglach, in the churchyard. “What had so lively a young fellow to do with the churchyard?” “Well, it’s just what happens often enough,” answered he. “It was on account of old Kickel.” Old Kickel! I had often heard the name mentioned. Ah, yes! it was the old servant at Zutrum, who—— “We’ll go together, so that it will be more entertaining. I am Peter from the Forest farm.” That was my introduction. “I’ve known you before,” was his answer. “I have often met you in Graz when I was with the soldiers, but you have never recognised me.” “And why have you never made yourself known since you were from home?” “I wanted to speak to you once, but I thought, ‘A common soldier! Who knows if he’d like it?’” “Naturally—you a common soldier—and I absolutely nothing.” “Ah—not that,” he rejoined. “You are already somebody. I know it well.” “So they have buried Kickel to-day! And where are the others, then?” “The few people have already gone on. Not many of them followed him. He was only a poor pauper.” “You have surely been one of the bearers?” “No,” said he; “I have only followed on after. There has been no praying even, because they said he had been a heathen. I thought to myself that he wasn’t any worse than most other people, and that he had had bad luck—it was certainly his fate. Now in God’s name he has rest.” “What bad luck did he have, then?” was my question. I believed that I was at last near to the satisfaction of my old and now re-awakened curiosity. “You will have heard of the story before,” said my road companion. “Yes, just rumours; but never knew where they came from. Do you know anything exactly?” “I know all about it,” said he. And I had led him on so far that he began to tell me everything. It is again many years since then, but one never forgets such things, and now I will tell the story of Kickel. “Isidor Kickel was the only son of a steward at the Schloss of Prince