nty shoe. The sole and the heel were plainly to be seen,
and, hard by, the print of a man's large, broad shoes, with iron-shod
heels, which told Kubbeling that they were those of Uhlwurm's great
boots. Yet though we had not met those we sought, the forest was full
of by-ways, by which they might have crossed us on the road; but nigh to
the foot-prints of the maid and the old man were there three others.
The old woodsman could discern them only too well; they had each and
all been made in the hoar-frost by men's boots. Two, it was certain,
had been left by finely-cut soles, such as are made by skilled city
cordwainers; and one left a track which could only be that of a spur;
whereas the third was so flat and broad that it was for sure that of the
shoe of a peasant, or charcoal burner.

There was a green patch in the frost which could only be explained as
having been made by one who had lain long on the earth, and the back of
his head, where he had fallen, had left a print in the grass as big as a
man's fist. Here was clear proof that Ann and her companion had, on this
very spot, been beset by three robbers, two of them knights and one of
low degree, that Uhlwurm had fought hard and had overpowered one of them
or had got the worst of it, and had been flung on the grass.

Alas! there could be no doubt, whereas Kubbeling found a foot-print of
Ann's over which the spurred mark lay, plainly showing that she had come
thither before those men. And on the highway we found fresh tracks of
horses and men; thus it was beyond all doubt that knavish rogues had
fallen upon Ann and Uhlwurm, and had carried them off without bloodshed,
for no such trace was to be seen anywhere on the mead.

Meanwhile the forester had followed the scent with the bloodhounds,
starting from the place where the man had lain on the grass, and scarce
were they lost to sight among the brushwood when they loudly gave
tongue, and Grubner cried to us to come to him. Behind a tall alder
bush, which had not yet lost its leaves, was a wooden lean-to on piles,
built there by the Convent fisherman wherein to dry his nets; and
beneath this shelter lay an old man in the garb of a serving-man, who
doubtless had lost his life in the struggle with Uhlwurm. But Kubbeling
was soon kneeling by his side, and whereas he found that his heart still
beat, he presently discovered what ailed the fellow. He was sleeping
off a drunken bout, and more by token the empty jar lay by his s