"There, there you have it! Hang yourself on the tree there. That's the only thing you can do for me. I want to see you hanging."
Landolin mounted his horse again, and rode away. He did not look around. He did not see how Cushion-Kate, with the cord in her hand, hastened after him through the forest.
Landolin reached the valley. The stream has risen above its bed, but there is the bridge, and just across is Anton's saw-mill.
The horse stepped gayly into the water that scarcely reached its knee. The dog waded by its side, and often looked up at his master, as though begging him to turn back. But Landolin rode on and on, and did not look around when it splashed so strangely behind him. He reached the bridge over which the water was already rushing. Just then something like a noose wound itself about his neck. He looked round. Cushion-Kate was clinging beside him to the horse. A struggle, a wrench, splash! and Cushion-Kate's red kerchief appeared for a moment; then nothing more was to be seen. Only the dog swam through the roaring waters, down to the mill, and there sprang on land.
CHAPTER LXX.
The judge's wife and her brother were just about entering their carriage to return home, when a messenger came from Anton to say that Thoma and Peter must come immediately to the mill. The messenger told them that Anton had rescued the ex-bailiff from the water with great danger to his own life, and that the horse was drowned.
"But my father! Is he alive?" asked Thoma.
The messenger said that when he left they were trying to restore him, and he seemed to show signs of life.
The carriage was quickly turned round, for her guests wished to accompany Thoma. Word was sent to the field for Peter to follow at once.
They drove down into the valley as quickly as the roads, torn and damaged by the water, would allow. In the stream was a boat, and Anton called from it: