320
Heart of the West
was as rough as a scrubbing brush, and he talked soft and kind and smelled of schnapps. He took me on his horse before him and we rode away among the knights. He held me close and I went to sleep that way, and didn’t wake up till I got home.”
“Rubbish!” cried Fritz Bergmann. “Fairy tales! How did you come from the quarries to my wagon?”
“The Prince brought me,” said Lena, confidently.
And to this day the good people of Fredericksburg haven’t been able to make her give any other explanation.
