pressed her hand upon her heart. Then she was calm a while, but a new
terror set it throbbing again. Close beside her--this time at her right
--the loud laughter of men's harsh voices echoed through the darkness.

Barbara involuntarily stopped, and when she collected her thoughts and
looked around her, her features, distorted by anxiety and terror,
smoothed again, and she instantly knocked with her little clinched hand
upon the door of the hut from whose open windows the laughter had issued.

It stood close to the river bank, and the tiny dwelling belonged to
the Prior of Berchtesgaden's fisherman and boatman, who kept the
distinguished prelate's gondolas and boats in order, and acted as rower
to the occupants of the little Prebrunn castle. She had often met this
man when he brought fish for the kitchen, and he had gone with the boats
in the water excursions which she had sometimes taken with Gombert and
Appenzelder or with Malfalconnet and several pages. She had treated him
kindly, and made him generous gifts.

All was still in the house after her knock, but almost instantly the deep
voice of the fisherman Valentin, who had thrust his bearded face and red
head out of the window, asked who was there.

The answer received an astonished "Can it be!" But as soon as she
informed him that she needed a companion, he shouted something to the
others, put on his fisherman's cap, stepped to Barbara's side, and led
the way with a lantern which stood lighted on the table.

The road was so softened that, in spite of the light which fell on the
ground, it was impossible to avoid the pools and muddy places. But the
girl had become accustomed to the wet and the wading. Besides, the