The afternoon was already far advanced; the walk through the ravine to the beach-house had occupied more time than Gotthold expected. He would wait for Cousin Boslaf an hour longer, and then return to the giant's grave, paint until sunset, claim the hospitality of the smithy for the night, and early the next morning--it was to be hoped with better success--seek out his old friend once more. Then he could reach Prora at noon, and after taking leave of the Wollnows, drive on with Jochen without delay. He had thought yesterday of finishing the picture in Prora; but they would pass through the place to-morrow evening on their return from Plueggenhof, so Jochen had informed him, and he would not trust a second time to the chance which had saved him from meeting Carl Brandow that very morning. The young man had thrown himself down upon the shore under the shadow of the beeches, which here extended to the very brink of the steep cliff. Accustomed as he had been on his sketching excursions to satisfy himself for a whole day with a piece of bread and a drink from his flask, he now felt no hunger; but he experienced far more fatigue than he had usually done after longer walks. As he lay there with the beeches rustling over his head, and the waves breaking on the stony shore beneath with their monotonous cadence, his lids gradually fell over eyes wearied by long gazing over the boundless waste of waters. CHAPTER VIII. A few hours later, Carl Brandow and Hinrich Scheel were riding over the moor from the smithy to Dollan, the same road which they had passed over in the opposite direction not ten minutes before. They rode at a quick trot, the groom a few dozen paces behind his master, though not from any feeling of respect, and certainly not because he was worse mounted. On the contrary, his horse was a magnificent brown animal of the purest blood, far more valuable than his master's half-breed, so valuable in fact, that any passer-by would have wondered how such a noble animal could be ridden upon such an ordinary occasion. But Hinrich Scheel was no ordinary rider; he noticed every movement of the horse upon the rough road as carefully as if he were training it upon a smooth race-course; not the smallest awkwardness was suffered to pass unnoticed; it had just been guilty of a trick for which it must be punished; and that was the reason why he had remained a little behind. Suddenly Carl Brandow drew his rein, and half turning said, over his shoulder, "Are you perfectly sure you saw him?" "I told you I passed within a hundred paces of him," answered Hinrich Scheel sulkily; "and I had plenty of time to look at him too; I believe he stood up there an hour, as if he had taken root." "But why did that scoundrel of a Jochen say just now that he didn't know where he was?" "Perhaps he doesn't." "Stuff and nonsense!"