I told him briefly what had occurred. "'Twas you taught him the trick," he said, with a laugh; "and he bore you no good-will for the lesson." "But what brought you so pat?" I asked. "I was sent," he replied. "'Twas thought best I should follow." "Follow? Follow whom?" said I. He made no answer to my question, and continued hurriedly. "I asked the fellow at the hut where you were, and he directed me here--not a minute too soon either. Were you working at the timber yesterday?" "All day." "Did Groder help?" "No! He remained behind." Otto gave a grunt. "Alone?" he asked. "Quite," I replied. "The others were with me." We walked back to the hut together, and as on the evening before, I stopped in the doorway to examine the ridge on which my hopes were set. But I watched it to-day with a beating heart, and, let me own it, with a shrinking apprehension too, for within the last hour the possibility of my attempt had grown immeasurably real. Groder, I was certain, I should see no more. 'Twas equally certain that Otto would not remain to fill his place, and one of the peasants had been battered to death in the breaking of the dam. 'Twas doubtless an unworthy feeling, but, much as the nature of the man's end had horrified me at the time, I could not now find it in my heart to greatly regret it. I was too conscious of the fact that only a couple of gaolers were left to guard me. Otto coming from the kitchen to join me, I deemed it prudent not to be particular in my gaze, and so taking my eyes off the ridge, which was become to me what Mahomet's bridge is to the Turk, I let them roam idly this way and that as we strolled forward over the turf. Hence it chanced that about twenty yards from the door I saw something bright winking in the verdure. I went towards it and picked it up. 'Twas a little gold cross, and, moreover, clean and unrusted. A sudden thought breaking in upon me, I turned to Otto and said: "Otto, have you ever heard of the Cold Torment?" Otto fell to crossing himself devoutly. "The Cold Torment?" he asked, in awed tones. "What know you of it?" He turned towards the gap in the hillside upon our right. "Look!" said he. "You see the peak that stands apart like a silver wedge. On its summit is buried an inexhaustible treasure, and night and day through the ages seven guilty souls keep ward about it in the cold. Never may one be freed until another is condemned in its stead. The Virgin save us from the Cold Torment!" "Ah!" said I, remarking the fervour of his prayer. "'Tis the text for a persuasive homily, and Father Spaur, I fancy, preached from it yesterday." Otto started, and glanced about him with some fear, as though he half expected to see the priest start out of the earth. "You know not what you say," he exclaimed. "Who sent you to follow him?" "Nay," he protested; "I came not to spy upon Father Spaur. We know not that he has been here. 'Twere wise not to know it." I handed him the gold cross, and asked again: