She did not finish her sentence. The tall stranger tottered, turned pale, then red, and cried in her ears in tones of thunder: “Wretched girl, you love Ordener Guldenlew, the betrothed of Ulrica d’Ahlefeld, the son of your father’s deadly foe, the viceroy of Norway!” Ethel fell fainting on the ground. XXXVII. _Caupolican._ Walk so cautiously that the earth itself may not catch your footfall. Redouble your precautions, friends. If we arrive unheard, I will answer for the victory. _Tucapel._ Night veils all; fearful darkness covers the earth. We hear no sentinel; we have seen no spies. _Ringo._ Let us advance! * * * * * _Tucapel._ What do I hear? Are we discovered? LOPE DA VEGA: _The Conquest of Arauco_. “I say, Guldon Stayper, old fellow, the evening breeze is beginning to blow my hairy cap about my head rather vigorously.” These words were spoken by Kennybol, as his eyes wandered for a moment from the giant who marched at the head of the insurgents, and half turned toward a mountaineer whom the accident of a disorderly progress had placed beside him. His friend shook his head and shifted his banner from one shoulder to the other, with a deep sigh of fatigue, as he answered:-- “Hum! I fancy, Captain, that in these confounded Black Pillar gorges, through which the wind rushes like a torrent let loose, we shall not be as warm to-night as if we were flames dancing on the hearth.” “We must make such rousing fires that the old owls will be scared from their nests among the rocks in their ruined palace. I can’t endure owls. On that horrid night when I saw the fairy Ubfem she took the shape of an owl.” “By Saint Sylvester!” interrupted Guldon Stayper, turning his head, “the angel of the storm beats his wings most furiously! Take my advice, Captain Kennybol, and set fire to all the pine-trees on the mountain. It would be a fine sight to see an army warm itself with a whole forest.” “Heaven forbid, my dear Guldon! Think of the deer, and the gerfalcons, and the pheasants! Roast the game, if you will, but do not burn it alive.” Old Guidon laughed: “Oh, Captain, you are the same devil of a Kennybol,--the wolf of deer, the bear of wolves, and the buffalo of bears!” “Are we far from Black Pillar?” asked a voice from the huntsmen. “Comrade,” replied Kennybol, “we shall enter the gorge at nightfall; we shall reach the Four Crosses directly.” There was a brief silence, during which nothing was heard but the tramp of many feet, the moaning of the wind, and the distant song of the regiment of iron-workers from Lake Miösen. “Friend Guldon Stayper,” resumed Kennybol, when he had whistled an old hunting-song, “you have just passed a few days at Throndhjem, have you not?” “Yes, Captain; my brother George, the fisherman, was ill, and I took his place in the boat for a short time, so that his poor family might not starve while he was ill.”