flooded. Then, all at once, he knew that this was Kühleborn's doing.

'It is Kühleborn,' he cried aloud, 'Kühleborn the water spirit, who is
doing his utmost to drown us. Do you not know a spell against his
power?'

'Yea, by my troth I know a spell,' answered the wagoner, 'but ere I
use it, I must tell you who I am.'

'I care not who you may be,' shouted the angry knight. 'See you not
that there is no time to lose. The water is rising rapidly.'

'Nevertheless,' answered the man,' you shall hear my name, for I am
Kühleborn!'

He laughed a mocking laugh, and at that moment the wagon seemed to
disappear, and Bertalda and the knight were struggling in the flood.
Above them rose the wagoner, who was indeed, as he had said,
Kühleborn. Taller and taller he towered above them, until he seemed at
last to change into a great white wave.

With horror-stricken eyes the maiden and the knight saw the wave swoop
down upon the noble steed, which had been vainly struggling in the
water. Then slowly once more the wave reared itself higher and higher
yet above the heads of the two who watched and waited until they too
should be for ever buried beneath the waters.

But ere the great white wave rolled down upon them, they were saved.
Through the tumult of the waters a sweet voice floated to Bertalda and
the knight. Then, as the moon broke through the clouds, they saw