It was remarked that as soon as Theresa began to sing, the prostrate victim lay quite still; and as soon as she ceased, he declared in a loud voice that since he was dead, he was determined to be buried. "Four proper youths and tall" immediately stepped forward, and raised him, stiff as a log, on their shoulders, then bore him with decent solemnity to the dust heap. After this deportation, Rudolf seemed to think himself exonerated from further communication with any of his fellow-mortals, except Theresa, with whom he was seen, by those who thought it worth while to look after him, in earnest conversation at the dairy-door. [Illustration] CHAPTER XIV. TROUBLED WATERS. Four men, two of whom wore the brown serge gowns of Capuchins, might have been seen, on the fourth of June, sitting on the bank of a foaming river, and presently rising in stilts from the pebbly bed of the river itself, sounding their way in advance, as they crossed it, by the aid of long poles. These were Hofer, Eisenstecken, Father Joachim, and Father Peter, on their way to Rattenberg, where they were to meet Hormayr, Baron Taxis, the engineer Hauser, and the chiefs of the lower Innthal. At this time, the Inn was so swollen by recent and heavy rains, as to be both difficult and dangerous to cross; but the bridges had all been destroyed during the warfare, and our friends had only this hazardous mode of fording the river. "I'm going!" cried Father Peter, in alarm, as the running water, flashing in the sun, dazzled his eye. "Why, brother, didst never walk on stilts before?" cried Father Joachim, catching him by the arm, and heartily laughing. "Shame on you for a faint heart. Steady, steady. Don't upset _me_, though, good brother." "Or I may chance to get a rap on the head with that staff," muttered Father Peter. "There! I'm out of the perilous waters at last,--the most dangerous voyage I ever undertook." Saying which, he scrambled out on the other bank, giving a lurch, however, as he did so, which entangled his stilt in one of Father Joachim's, and nearly gave him a ducking. The excellent Capuchin turned exceedingly red, but suppressed his wrath, if he felt any, merely observing, "Thou deservest a crack on the pate most assuredly, good brother!" Then, having burst into a jolly laugh, that made the hills ring again, he suddenly stopped short, wiped his eyes, and went on, silent as night; till at length he said to Hofer-- "A laugh is worth a zwanziger now and then. Or else, it makes my heart sore to pass along this valley, only a few weeks ago in the highest possible state of cultivation, and diversified with villages in the neatest order; now presenting on every side a spectacle of ruin and desolation." "_Eheu_," sighed Father Peter, in response, "'_Incenderunt igni sanctuarium tuum; in terra polluerunt nominis tui._'"