Immediately he galloped up to it; I followed in a couple of minutes; we had dismounted, and were examining the track of the Black Pest. "I should like to know," cried Sperver, "how that track came here?" "Don't let that trouble you," I replied. "You are right, Fritz; don't mind what I say; sometimes I do speak rather at random. What we want now is to know where that track will lead us to." And now the huntsman knelt on the ground. I was all ears; he was closely examining. "It is a fresh track," he pronounced, "last night's. It is a strange thing, Fritz, during the count's last attack that old witch was hanging about the castle." Then examining with greater care-- "She passed here between three and four o'clock this morning." "How can you tell that?" "It is quite a fresh track; there is sleet all round it. Last night, about twelve, I came out to shut the doors; there was sleet falling then, there is none upon the footsteps, therefore she has passed since." "That is true enough, Sperver, but it may have been made much later; for instance, at eight or nine." "No, look, there is frost upon it! The fog that freezes on the snow only comes at daybreak. The creature passed here after the sleet and before the fog--that is, about three or four this morning." I was astonished at Sperver's exactitude. He rose from his knee, clapping his hands together to get rid of the snow, and looking at me thoughtfully, as if speaking to himself, said-- "It is twelve, is it not, Fritz?" "A quarter to twelve." "Very well; then the old woman has got seven hours' start of us. We must follow upon her trail step by step; on horseback we can do it in half the time, and, if she is still going, about seven or eight to-night we have got her, Fritz. Now then, we're off." And we started afresh upon the track. It led us straight to the mountains. Galloping away, Sperver said-- "If good luck only would have it that she had rested an hour or two in a hole in a rock, we might be up with her before the daylight is gone." "Let us hope so, Gideon." "Oh, don't think of it. The old she-wolf is always moving; she never tires; she tramps along all the hollows in the Black Forest. We must not flatter ourselves with vain hopes. If, perhaps, she has stopped on her journey, so much the better for us; and if she still keeps going, we won't let that discourage us. Come on at a gallop."