e
asked him if he was tired.

"Oh no, herr," he said; "my legs are a little heavy, but not so heavy as
my heart."

"Don't take any notice of that," said Saxe, in a low voice; "he did not
mean anything much. He was angry because I was so nearly killed."

"Yes; and it was just," said the guide: "for I am answerable for your
lives. It would have been most horrible if you had gone down there."

"Yes, of course it would," said Saxe lightly.

"And I have been thinking it over and over, herr, till I can think no
more; for the thoughts always come to the same point. I cannot
understand it."

"Why, the rope got worked up, Melk; that's all."

"No, herr--impossible: that loop could not have worked up unless hands
touched it."

"Gnomes or kobolds?" said Saxe, smiling as he had not been able to smile
in the gloomy ravine.

"Ah, herr! you laugh at the old fancy; but there the matter lies; and I
am beginning to think that a great deal of our misfortune is due to the
same cause."

"What! the stone-throwing from the mountain?"

"Yes, herr."

"Well, don't let us talk any more about it, or you'll be making me fancy
all sorts of things after it is dark. How much farther have we to go?"

"A good piece yet, herr; but we know the way. There is no doubt about
it. In a little while I shall hurry on before, and get the fire lit, so
as to have the tea ready for Herr Dale. I am sorry I have angered him
so."

"Don't say any more about it, and he will soon forget it all."

"Yes, herr--I hope so," replied Melchior; "but I cannot."

Half an hour after he stepped out, and went silently by Dale, touching
his hat as he passed, and went on so quickly that he was soon out of
sight; and then Dale slackened his pace a little, to allow Saxe to come
up.

"Tired and hungry, my lad?" he said.

"Yes, both," replied the boy. "I hope Melchior has brought a chicken to
broil for tea."

Dale laughed.

"Well, now you speak of it, I hope so too, for I suppose I am hungry;
but all that business put eating out of my head. By the way, Saxe, I am
sorry I spoke so sharply to Melchior. The man is very sensitive, and of
course he cannot help having a lingering belief in the old superstitions
of the people among whom he was raised."

"I suppose not," said Saxe thoughtfully.

"Why, in one of their old books the author has given copperplate
engravings of the terrible fiery and other dragons which dwelt in the
mountains. Superstitions die