"A chamois hunter wouldn't dare go where you've, been. Now we're up here, and there's our hut," said she, at last. "It's a wonder you didn't stumble over the rock with your long dress."
"Who are you?" asked Irma.
"Tell me first, who you are, and how you got here."
"I can't tell you that."
"No matter. They call me Black Esther."
"Who are you bringing there?" called out a grim-looking woman, who appeared at the door of the hut. Behind her glowed the fire on the hearth.
"I don't know; it's a woman."
Irma went toward the hut with Black Esther. The old woman crossed herself and exclaimed:
"Let all good spirits praise the Lord! it's the Lady of the Lake--"
"I'm not a spirit," said Irma. "I'm a weary mortal. Let me rest here for a while, and then let your daughter go with me and show me the way to the lake. All I ask for now is a drop of water."