the fire on the side of the hill, furious
that he could find no way to rescue his friend.

A stranger joined them at their watch fire; it was a messenger from the
neighbouring town, who had been sent to summon Annele to her mother,
who was dying.

"Fetch her out!" said Faller in bitter sorrow; "she is below there."

He then related what had occurred, and the man went homewards in the
darkness.

Faller ventured to skirt the uprooted wood, by a bye path; if he could
only reach the fir trees before the house, then aid would be nearer. In
company with the dial maker, he pushed some large logs lying on the
side of the hill, towards the fir trees; several were precipitated
down, and remained standing upright in the snow, while one rolled down
the hill, and rested on the firs.

"Good Heavens!" said his companion, "the large logs that we have rolled
down, are sure to come in collision with the roof, and to crush to
death the unhappy inmates."

"I am the most stupid wretch that ever lived, the most senseless, the
most idiotical; now I shall have been the cause of your death, my dear,
good Lenz!" cried Faller in despair.

After a while he managed to crawl on a bridge formed by the trunk of a
tree, and succeeded in setting fire with his torch, to several trees
that were heaped together on that spot.

"That will melt the snow surely," cried he, elated.

"Yes, but it may catch the straw thatched roof," replied his comrade.

Faller stood transfixed, but soon began to roll huge snowballs on the
top of the fire, and succeeded in extinguishing it just as day broke.

It was a bright morning, almost as warm as a spring day; the sun shone
warmly on the Morgenhalde, seeking the house that he had greeted for so
many long years, but could no longer find it; he sought its master, who
was always so quiet, and yet so busy, seated at early dawn working at
his window, just like his father before him, and his grandfather before
that; but neither house nor master was to be found, and the sun's rays
blinked strangely, and flickered hither and thither, as if they had
lost their way; the treacherous snow displayed its broad glittering
white surface, as if saying: "Do your worst." The sun sent down fiery,
burning rays, and melted the outposts, but the fortress itself must be
besieged for days.

The men had all reassembled, with the Techniker at their head; and from
the adjacent village, and many other parishes besides, there were
plenty