ove in the wall, through the iron
bars of which Otto could see a small patch of blue sky and now and then
a darting swallow, for an instant seen, the next instant gone. Such
was the little baron's prison in Trutz-Drachen. Fastened to a bolt
and hanging against the walls, hung a pair of heavy chains with gaping
fetters at the ends. They were thick with rust, and the red stain of
the rust streaked the wall below where they hung like a smear of blood.
Little Otto shuddered as he looked at them; can those be meant for me,
he thought.

Nothing was to be seen but that one patch of blue sky far up in the
wall. No sound from without was to be heard in that gloomy cell of
stone, for the window pierced the outer wall, and the earth and its
noises lay far below.

Suddenly a door crashed without, and the footsteps of men were heard
coming along the corridor. They stopped in front of Otto's cell; he
heard the jingle of keys, and then a loud rattle of one thrust into
the lock of the heavy oaken door. The rusty bolt was shot back with a
screech, the door opened, and there stood Baron Henry, no longer in his
armor, but clad in a long black robe that reached nearly to his feet,
a broad leather belt was girdled about his waist, and from it dangled a
short, heavy hunting sword.

Another man was with the Baron, a heavy-faced fellow clad in a leathern
jerkin over which was drawn a short coat of linked mail.

The two stood for a moment looking into the room, and Otto, his pale
face glimmering in the gloom, sat upon the edge of the heavy wooden
bench or bed, looking back at them out of his great blue eyes. Then the
two entered and closed the door behind them.

"Dost thou know why thou art here?" said the Baron, in his deep, harsh
voice.

"Nay," said Otto, "I know not."

"So?" said the Baron. "Then I will tell thee. Three years ago the good
Baron Frederick, my uncle, kneeled in the dust and besought mercy at thy
father's hands; the mercy he received was the coward blow that slew him.
Thou knowest the story?"

"Aye," said Otto, tremblingly, "I know it."

"Then dost thou not know why I am here?" said the Baron.

"Nay, dear Lord Baron, I know not," said poor little Otto, and began to
weep.

The Baron stood for a moment or two looking gloomily upon him, as the
little boy sat there with the tears running down his white face.

"I will tell thee," said he, at last; "I swore an oath that the red cock
should crow on Drachenhausen, and I