At five o'clock it was almost dark. Sperver halted and said--

"Fritz, my lad, we have started a couple of hours too late. The she-wolf
has had too long a start. In ten minutes it will be as dark as a dungeon.
The best way would be to reach Roche Creuse, which is twenty minutes'
ride from here, light a good fire, and eat our provisions and empty our
flasks. When the moon is up we will follow the trail again, and unless
the old hag is the foul fiend himself, ten to one we shall find her dead
and stiff with cold against the foot of a tree, for nothing can live
after such a tremendous tramp in weather like this. Sébalt is the best
walker in the Black Forest, and he would not have stood it. Come, Fritz,
what is your opinion?"

"I am not so mad as to think differently. Besides, I am perishing with
hunger!"

"Well, let us start again."

He took the lead and passed into a close and narrow glen between two
precipitous faces of rock. The fir-trees met over our heads; under our
feet ran a mere thread of the stream, and from time to time some ray from
above was dimly reflected in the depths below and glinted with a dull
leaden light.

The darkness was now such that I thought it prudent to drop my bridle on
Rappel's neck. The steps of our horses on the slippery gravel awoke
strange discordant sounds like the screaming of monkeys at play. The
echoes from rock to rock caught up and repeated every sound, and in the
distance a tiny space of deep blue widened as we advanced; it was the