This comparison, which at any other time would have greatly offended the learned keeper, now comforted him. Still, he was about to address another prayer to Ordener to persuade him to continue his journey, when the latter, having learned all that he wished to know forestalled him by making his way out of the crowd, which was beginning to disperse. Although when they entered Oëlmœ village they had intended passing the night there, they quitted it, as if by common consent, without even alluding to the motive for their abrupt departure. Ordener was moved by the hope of a more speedy meeting with the brigand, Spiagudry by a desire to get away from the archers as speedily as might be. Ordener was in too serious a mood to laugh at his comrade’s misadventures. He broke the silence in kindly tones. “Old man, what is the name of the ruin where Hans is to be found to-morrow, according to that little man who seemed to know everything?” “I don’t know; I didn’t quite catch the name, noble master,” replied Spiagudry, who uttered no falsehood in so saying. “Then,” continued the young man, “I must make up my mind not to meet him until the day after to-morrow at Walderhog cave.” “Walderhog cave, sir! Indeed, that is Hans of Iceland’s favorite haunt.” “Let us take that road,” said Ordener. “We must turn to the left, behind Oëlmœ cliff. It will take us at least two days to get to Walderhog cave.” “Do you know, old man,” cautiously observed Ordener, “who that odd fellow was, who seemed to be so well acquainted with you?” This question again awakened Spiagudry’s fears, which had been lulled to sleep as the village of Oëlmœ faded in the distance. “No, truly, sir,” he answered, in trembling accents. “But he had a very strange voice.” Ordener tried to encourage him. “Fear nothing, old man; serve me well, and I will protect you. If I return victorious over Hans, I promise you not only a pardon, but I will also give you the thousand crowns reward offered by the officers of the law.” Honest Benignus dearly loved his life, but he also loved gold. Ordener’s promises sounded like magic in his ears; they not only banished all his terrors, but they excited in him a kind of garrulous mirth, which found vent in lengthy discourses, queer gestures, and learned quotations.