One year many of these crab-apples were stolen, and the sick folk of the hamlet had very little conserve.

So the following year, as the fruit was ripening, the hermit spoke every day to those who came to his cell, saying-- "I pray you, good people, to make it known that he who robs these crab trees, robs not me alone, which is dishonest, but the sick, which is inhuman." And yet once more the crab-apples were taken.
The following evening, as the hermit sat on the side of the hill, he overheard two boys disputing about the theft.
"It must either have been a very big man, or a small boy, to do it," said one.

"So I say, and I have my reason." "And what is thy reason, Master Wiseacre ?" asked the other.
"The fruit is too high to be plucked except by a very big man," said the first boy.

"And the branches are not strong enough for any but a child to climb." "Canst thou think of no other way to rob an apple tree but by standing a-tip-toe, or climbing up to the apples, when they should come down to thee ?" said the second boy.

"Truly thy head will never save thy heels; but here's a riddle for thee: Riddle me riddle me re, Four big brothers are we; We gather the fruit, but climb never a tree.
Who are they ?" "Four tall robbers, I suppose," said the other.
"Tush!" cried his comrade.