When he lifted the mattress it
was then he took a deep breath and smiled. What he saw was a gun
case. He drew it from under. It was heavy; his fifty crowns were
inside. Next he picked up a candlestick and stuffed the candle
into it, and laid a quilt against the threshold of the door so
that no light would pierce the corridor.
"This is the gun the Englishman did not use in the hunting
expeditions," he thought. "If it is out of repair, as he said it
was, my fifty crowns are not so many pfennige. The devil! it
must be a valuable piece of gunsmithing, to hide it under the
bedclothes. Let me see if my crowns are for the picking."
He investigated forthwith. The hammers and the triggers worked
smoothly. He unlocked the breech and held the nozzles toward the
candle light --and again cursed. The barrels were clogged up.
Notwithstanding, he plucked forth the cleaning-rod and forced it
into one of the tubes. There was a slight resistance, and
something fluttered to the floor and rolled about. The second
tube was treated likewise, with the same result. Johann laughed
silently. The fifty crowns were tangible; he could hear them
jingling in his pocket, and a pretty music they made.
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