r and walked along its
bank, mile after mile. Here and there, they turned aside and threaded
their way through the thicket to take a last look at the scene of some
fondly recollected hunt, or to inspect some of the traps which they
remembered to be there. But when in one snare they found a wretched
little rabbit, still alive but frantic with terror, Alwin laid a
detaining hand on Rolf's knife.

"Let him go," he said, shortly. "You have no need of him, and his life
is all he has. Let him keep it,--for my sake."

He did not stay to watch the white dot of a tall go bobbing away over
the ferns. He hurried on rather shamefaced; and when Rolf overtook him,
they walked another mile without speaking.

Along in the middle of the forenoon they reached a point on the river
where the banks no longer rose in bluffs but lay in grassy slopes,
fringed with drooping trees. The sun was hot overhead, and their clothes
were heavy upon their backs. Rolf suggested that they stop long enough
for a swim.

"That will do as well as anything," Alwin assented. But when the
delicious coolness of the water had closed about him, and he felt its
velvet softness on his dusty skin, he decided that it was the best thing
they could have done. The lounge upon the grassy bank, while they dried
themselves in the sun, was dreamily pleasant. Even after he had gathered
sufficient energy to get into his clothes again, Alwin lingered lazily,
waiting for his companion to make the first move toward departure.

"This is a restful spot," he said, gazing up at the sky through the
network of interlacing branches. "It gives one the feeling that it is so
far away that no human foot has ever trod it before, and that none will
ever come again when we have left."

From the ant-hill which he was idly spearing with grass-blades, Rolf
looked up to smile. "Then your feelings are not to be trusted, comrade,"
he said; "for there are few spots on the river which our men have more
frequented. Even that lazy hound of a thrall comes here almost daily to
look at the quail-traps in yonder thicket, that being the one food which
he likes well enough to make an exertion for. Would that he would visit
them to-day!"

Alwin did not seem to hear him. His eyes were still intent on the
swaying tree-tops. "It is a fair land to be alive in," he said,
dreamily; "yet, I cannot help wondering how it will be to be dead here.
Does it not seem to you that if my spirit comes out of its grave at