“Hark ye; the sight of you offends me; I must have done. You stole, a week since, an iron casket from one of your victims, a Munkholm officer, did you not?” At the word “Munkholm” the brigand started. “An officer from Munkholm?” he muttered. Then he asked, with a look of surprise, “Are you too an officer from Munkholm?” “No,” said Ordener. “So much the worse!” and his face clouded. “Enough of this,” rejoined the persistent Ordener; “where is the casket that you stole from the captain?” The little man meditated for a moment. “By Ingulf! here’s a paltry iron box that occupies many minds. I will promise you there’ll not be so much search for that which holds your bones, if ever they be collected in a coffin.” These words, as they showed Ordener that the robber knew the casket to which he referred, revived his hope of obtaining it. “Tell me what you did with that casket. Is it in Count d’Ahlefeld’s possession?” “No.” “You lie, for you laugh.” “Believe what you will. What matters it to me?” The monster had assumed a mocking air which awakened Ordener’s suspicions. He saw that there was nothing to be done but to rouse him to fury if possible, or to intimidate him. “Hear me,” said he, raising his voice; “you must give me that casket.” The other answered with a savage sneer. “You must give it to me!” the young man repeated in tones of thunder. “Are you accustomed to issuing orders to buffaloes and bears?” replied the monster, still sneering. “I would give this command to the very Devil in hell.” “You may do so ere long, if you like.” Ordener drew his sword, which gleamed in the darkness like a flash of lightning. “Obey me!” “Nay,” cried Hans, brandishing his axe; “I might have broken your bones and sucked your blood when you first appeared, but I restrained my wrath; I was curious to see the sparrow attack the vulture.” “Wretch,” exclaimed Ordener, “defend yourself!” “’Tis the first time I was ever told to do so,” muttered the brigand, gnashing his teeth. With these words, he sprang upon the granite altar and gathered himself together, like a leopard awaiting the hunter on a high cliff, ready to spring upon him unawares. From this vantage-ground he glared at the young man, apparently seeking the best side from which to attack him. All would have been over with Ordener had he hesitated an instant. But he gave the brigand no time to consider, and threw himself violently upon him, aiming the point of his sword at his face. Then began the most fearful fight which imagination can picture. The little man, standing upon the altar, like a statue on its pedestal, looked like one of those horrid idols which, in barbarous ages, received in that same spot impious sacrifices and sacrilegious offerings.