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Again the question came: "Who is this man, and what seeks he here, Klas? I ask." "'T is a courier with dispatches for the council, Madam," replied the man. "Give me the dispatches," said the girl; "I will attend to them." "You, indeed!" The courier laughed grimly. "The dispatches from the Emperor of Germany are for no hairbrained maid to handle.
There was not a musician in Rügen or in Pomerania that was not engaged, for John was immensely rich, and he wished to display his wealth. John did not neglect his old friend Klas Starkwolt, the cowherd. He gave him enough to make him comfortable for the rest of his days, and insisted on his coming and staying with him as often and as long as he wished.
When he wrestled with Klas Bogenstrom or Frithiof Waderfelt and struck them in the back, he would say 'That is what I shall do to a wolf! and when he shot arrows at Jonas and they rattled against his sheepskin coat he would say: 'That is how I should shoot you if you were a wolf! Indeed, some thought that the brave boy boasted a little; but one must indeed believe him since he said so himself.
And I will go down with you, and see how you live below and you shall be my servant. Nay, no grumbling, you know you must. And I know it too, just as well as you do, for Klas Starkwolt told it to me often and often."
These tales John swallowed so eagerly that he thought of nothing else, and was for ever talking of golden cups, and crowns, and glass shoes, and pockets full of ducats, and gold rings, and diamond coronets, and snow-white brides, and the like. Old Klas used often to shake his head at him and say, "John! John! what are you about?
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