"Draw thy garment closer around thee, thou pale man, so the bones
will not rattle, and I shall be able to curb my horse."

"It would be of no avail, boy; it would be of no avail. The bones
must rattle."

"Do not clasp me so tight with thy long arms, they are so cold."

"It cannot be helped, boy; it cannot be helped. Be content. For my
long cold arms are not pressing yet on thy heart."

"Do not breathe on me so with thy icy breath. All my strength is
departing."

"I must breathe, boy; I must breathe. But do not complain. I am not
blowing thee away."

The strange dialogue here came to an end; for to Sintram's surprise
he found himself on an open plain, over which the sun was shining
brightly, and at no great distance before him he saw his father's
castle. While he was thinking whether he might invite the unearthly
pilgrim to rest there, this one put an end to his doubts by throwing
himself suddenly off the horse, whose wild course was checked by the
shock. Raising his forefinger, he said to the boy, "I know old Biorn
of the Fiery Eyes well; perhaps but too well. Commend me to him. It
will not need to tell him my name; he will recognize me at the
description." So saying, the ghastly stranger turned aside into a
thick fir-wood, and disappeared rattling amongst the tangled
branches.