ather, where,
after crackling and smoking for a few seconds, the fire spread itself in
all directions. While engaged in this occupation, the object of which
was not immediately manifest to the fugitives, Black Mads did not cease
giving vent to his thoughts in the following broken sentences:--"The
wind is with us, the heather's dry; now Niels keeper can soon get a
light for his pipe--it is the second time he has had the benefit of my
tinder-box; the man will, no doubt, curse and swagger about the
heath-fowl, because I roast them without basting; but need knows no law,
and a brave fellow takes care of himself. See now! it's beginning to
smoulder." With these words he rose, and said to the Cornet, "Do now as
you see I do, pull up a head of heather, set fire to it, run ten paces
towards the north, and fire the heath; then pull up another, run, and
again set fire, all towards the north, till you approach that little
heath-hill yonder two or three gunshots distant. I will do the same
towards the south, and then we will run as quickly back. The Froeken can
in the mean time stay here with the horse. It will soon be done: now let
us begin! Light before and dark behind." With this formula the poacher
commenced his operations. The Cornet followed his instructions, and
soon a tract of heath, two miles in breadth, stood in a blaze, and both
incendiaries immediately rejoined the trembling Froeken.

"We have now earned our breakfast!" cried Mads, "be so good as follow
me, and put up with very humble accommodation--but what can we do with
this?" he gave the mare a slap with his open hand, "Can you find your
way home alone?"

"O," said the Froeken, "she follows me wherever I go."

"No, that she certainly must not, for she would betray us: the door of
my house is too narrow for her to enter, and we dare not let her stand
without. You are too good to suffer harm," said he to the mare, while
taking off the saddle and pillion, "but every one is nearest to
himself."

The Cornet, who saw his design, took his mistress by the hand and led
her some stops aside, as if to place her beyond the range of the
conflagration. The poacher took his piece, cocked it, went up to the
side of the mare, held it behind her ear, and fired. The Froeken turned
round with a shriek of horror, just in time to see her poor Dun, sinking
down among the heather. Tears of pity flowed down the pale cheeks of the
sorrowful girl.

"The jade is as dead as a herring," cr