ged by the
warder of the Castle on his nightly rounds. But the warder was just
enjoying his seventh glass of lager beer, and was not very keen on the
look-out.

As he dropped outside the walls, his favourite dog began to bark and beg
to go with him; but Rudolf did not dare to let him out for fear of
creating a disturbance.

He soon gained the little path which led through Eppenhain, and then
through fields to the woods that clothed the Rossert. Great clouds had
obscured the moon; but he was not afraid; he was so used to the woods
and could distinguish one creature from another simply by its movements.

In his hand he carried a dark lantern. A rough path covered with rocks
and stones led to the summit of the mountain. As he walked cautiously
along, a bat hit him in the face as it blundered along. "Hi, ho, steady
there, old fellow!" said Rudolf. He now entered the part of the woods
where the beeches and oaks grow so closely together that at midday the
sky seems green, rather than blue. The moon shone out suddenly, and he
saw by its light a gruesome-looking head without a body that seemed to
grin at him from among the undergrowth. His heart stood still for a
moment, and then he laughed at his fears; for he saw that it was only a
grotesque old tree-stump, such as one so often sees in the woods.

Suddenly he saw a bright light through the trees, as if one of the
bushes were on fire, or was it merely the brilliant moonbeams shining on
a wet clearing?

For a moment all was still; then lightning played across his path,
revealing a huge clumsy-looking giant who stood with club uplifted in
the way, looking as if he would dash his brains out. Brave though Rudolf
was, he did not wish to court danger; so he turned aside into the woods
hoping to find another path before long that was not thus barricaded.
Then voices seemed to mock him and to laugh at him, and he had the
unpleasant sensation of dark shadows, moving as he moved, shadows
unaccompanied by substance.

The rain came down, pouring, drenching rain, such as the forests love.
In a few minutes he was wet to the skin, as wet as if he had plunged
into the river with his clothes on. Naturally his vanity was to blame
for this; in his stout hunting clothes and thick leather boots even a
deluge could not have wetted him through. To add to this, the air was
close and stifling, and he had lost his way. All this for the sake of an
unseen maiden. What if she were as old and ugly a