ough as the tangled brakes through which
he loves to run his huge bristly back; the eagle is as proud and lofty as
the sky-piercing crags on which he perches as his home; the lion is as
majestic as the arching vaults of the caves where he makes his den; but
the wolf, the fox, and the ferret seek the darkness that conforms to
their ugly deeds; fear and remorse dog their steps.

I was still dreamily pursuing these thoughts, and I was beginning to feel
the keen air moving upon my face, for we were approaching the outlet of
the gorge, when all at once a red light struck the rock a hundred feet
above us, purpling the dark green of the fir-trees and lighting up the
wreaths of snow.

"Ha!" cried Sperver, "we have got her at last!"

My heart leaped; we stood, closely pressed, the one against the other.

The dog growled low and deep.

"Cannot she escape?" I asked in a whisper.

"No; she is caught like a rat in a trap. There is no way out of La
Marmite du Grand Gueulard but this, and everywhere all round the rocks
are two hundred feet high. Now, vile hag, I hold you!"

He alighted in the ice-cold stream, handing me his bridle. I caught in
the silence the click of the lock of his gun, and that slight noise threw
me into a tremor of apprehension.

"Sperver, what are you about?"

"Don't be alarmed; it is only to frighten her."

"Very well, then, but no blood. Remember what I told you--the ball which
strikes the Pest slays the count!"

"Don't trouble yourself," was the answer.

He went away without further parley. I could hear the splash of his feet
in the water; then I saw his tall figure emerge at the opening of the
dark glen, black against a purple background. He stood five minutes
motionless. Attentive, bending forward, I looked and listened, still
moving onward. As he returned I was but a few yards from him.

"Hark!" he whispered mysteriously. "Look there!"

At the end of the hollow, scooped out perpendicularly like a quarry in
the mountain side, I saw a bright fire unrolling its golden spires
beneath the vault of a cave, and before the fire sat a man with his hands
clasped about his knees, whom I recognised by his dress as the Baron de
Zimmer-Bluderich.

He sat motionless, his forehead resting between his hands. Behind him lay
a dark gaunt form extended on the ground. Farther on, his horse, half
lost in the shade, reared his neck, gazed on us with eyes fixed, ears
erect, and nostrils distended.

I stood root