They now rode on thoughtfully, and in silence. The night was beginning to darken as they passed Daugberg Church, and they continued their course northwards towards the town, through a long valley between considerable heights, wherein deep pits had been formed by the important lime-stone quarries. The dark green, newly-sprung winter corn grew on the heights, between heaps of stones and half-fallen groups of trees. The sight of this wild, picturesque spot awoke many youthful memories in the mind of the drost, and dissipated his uneasy thoughts. "Here have I often played at robbers in my childhood," he said: "little thought I, then, that I should now be riding here in this serious mood." "Look, sir!" said Skirmen, riding close up to his master: "see you not something twinkling, and in motion, in that great gloomy pit?" "Are you dreaming of robbers?" inquired the drost. "I see nothing." "Now, also, do I see nothing," replied Skirmen; "but the pit is full seventy ells deep--it could conceal a whole band." "The place is well suited for such fellows," observed the drost; "but hitherto, this spot has been secure enough. My brave warden Tygé is not to be trifled with. Do you see the old wheel on Daugberg-Daas? It still stands there, as a grave warning to rievers and highwaymen. The wood would better suit such gentry; but, there, old Henner Friser is on the outlook." "Henner Friser!" repeated Skirmen, in astonishment: "is he here?" "It is true, indeed. You should not have known it, Skirmen; but you can be silent. You may remember that he killed a royal squire in self-defence; and, to be out of the way of trouble on that account, he is attached to one of my hunting-seats." "Which, sir? That of Finnerup?" "Well, then, since you have guessed so much, he resides there. But you must be silent on the subject." "I understand you, sir," replied Skirmen, highly delighted: "I shall take care not to bring the brave old man and the pretty little Aasé into trouble. But had they not better leave the hunting-seat for the next few days? How easily the king and his huntsmen might discover them! And, should that cursed coxcomb, Rané, meet them--" "Skirmen," replied the drost, "you are more circumspect than I. To-morrow, betimes, you can ride over and warn them." "Thanks, sir, thanks!" exclaimed Skirmen, jigging gaily in his saddle. They now entered a little plantation of young beeches and poplars. Twilight descended, but they could still see the tall white trees. "I scarcely know my little Kjælderriis again," said the drost: "see how proud my poplars are grown." "However good a look-out Henner Friser may keep, there are still poachers enough here," said Skirmen. "I heard the twang of a steel-bow just now; and--do you not hear that rustling in the thicket there?"