Legends from River & Mountain

by Carmen Sylva; Alma Strettell

He spoke with a somewhat scornful smile, for he marked the look of dislike upon his comrades’ faces.

“We cannot gainsay thee,” said Fritz, the tall young Schneeberger, after some hesitation, “for there is nothing to keep any man from taking part in this contest—but methinks thy trouble will be in vain,” he added, with a self-satisfied air.

“Unless the devil help him!” growled the Hartzman, who looked more like a comrade of the devil’s himself, as he glared from under his heavy brows at his rival. “But let be—fair means or foul are alike to me,” he muttered low to himself, “so I do but keep your smug face out of this fight.”

So the four parted, and next day the tale was all over Schneeberg, and Mistress Gretchen was sorely teased by all the wives and maidens among her friends, on the subject of the event that was to decide her fate. Master Ran bit his lip and frowned angrily, when his old friends upbraided him with his indifference to his daughter’s happiness and said that such wealth as her suitors had been driven to seek for would never bring luck; but he stood firm, even against his daughter’s prayers—the richest man should have her, and no other. “Who knows,” people began to say, “what his own secret troubles may be, or what money he needs to cover his own ill doings?”

Gretchen had indeed implored her father to withdraw his rash promise to the gold-seekers, and had sworn she would be bought by no man to wife, for a pot of ill-gotten money; yet his obstinacy did not seem to cause her as much uneasiness as might have been expected. Perhaps she knew what was going on in Christopher’s little smelting-hut, or perhaps he found words wherewith to comfort her, during their stolen interviews and walks in the lonely pinewoods far up the mountain. He, at any rate, did not believe in the likelihood of the seekers finding hidden treasure.

Fritz had gone forth on his wanderings alone, and alone, too, the Hartzman had departed to his native mountains; but Master Red-hair had taken a friend with him on his journey, and Christopher, as has been said, remained quietly at home in his workshop. Time sped on, and as the six months drew to their close, Gretchen began to look more anxious, and Christopher more careworn and pale, and overworked.

At last the great day arrived, and all the men gathered eagerly together at the ale-house, where Master Ran, too, was to be seen looking out for his would-be sons-in-law. It was known that not one of the wanderers had as yet turned up in Schneeberg, and Christopher Schürer, too, seemed to have forgotten the day, for he had not left his hut since morning.

It was summer, and still quite light, for the men had assembled early. Now, as they sat at the tavern door, looking anxiously down all the roads, there appeared on the edge of the forest, to the left, the form of a man staggering along with a heavy burden upon his back. Expectation rose to the highest pitch; but what was the horror and dismay of the company, when it was seen that the man was that friend whom Red-hair had taken away with him on his quest, and that the burden he bore was the body of his unfortunate comrade! With awe-struck faces they carried the dead man into an inner room, and then supplied the weary bearer of this sad burden with food and refreshment. When he was able to speak, he told the story of Red-hair’s ill-omened journey:—

“We sought for many weeks,” he said, “far and near, following up any clue we could get about buried treasures; but we never found anything, nor could we even get enough information to make a trial, until a week or two ago, when we were returning homewards in despair, and learnt that in a cliff, about a day’s journey from here, there was a ‘treasure-chamber,’ where gold and silver lay in heaps. More than one of the villagers swore to having peeped in and seen it, but none had dared venture farther, because there was said to be a wild beast in the cave, whose growlings could be heard outside. Master Red-hair had much ado, methinks, to muster up courage for the venture, but one day, towards evening, after he had been drinking deep at the tavern, he armed himself with a stout stick and a knife, and called me to climb the cliff with him. The climb in the hot afternoon sun brought the blood to my cheeks, but he grew paler the higher we got, and when at last we stood at the mouth of the cave, he stammered: ‘See here, comrade, thou art a stronger man than I, and art not troubled with such a fluttering heart; what if thou shouldst first step in and see how the land lies? I will join thee at thy first call, and—thou shalt have half the treasure.’

“‘Nay, nay, comrade,’ I answered; ‘each man for himself. I agreed to come with thee for company, and to give thee a helping hand in case of need, but this is not my venture, and I never said I would risk my skin to win thee a bride. As for treasure—I have wife and babes at home, ’tis true, yet I warrant we would all rather be there together, in poverty, but with whole skins, than risk life and limb for a pot of gold that had a curse upon it.’ This did not seem to cheer him much, and I saw I had gone the wrong way about to hearten him up. ‘Yet I see nothing greatly to fear in the look of the case,’ I continued, ‘and a step within is not much to venture, to win a bride that is so beloved’—for I had often heard him call on Gretchen’s name in his dreams—‘and for that matter, I will come with thee fast enough; only mind, thou wilt have but half the treasure if I do!’ This seemed to decide him, and he said he would venture in if I promised to stand by the mouth of the cave and run to his help at his first cry. This I promised to do, and saw him disappear into the darkness. The mouth of the cave was wide, but it narrowed immediately within, and what was my horror when I saw, as I stood watching it, that it was beginning slowly to close—and yet Red-hair had given no sign! As I saw the opening grow smaller, I shouted to him to return, and would have gone in search of him but that I could not push my way along the narrow windings of the path. But at that moment I heard his voice answering with terrified cries to mine, and mingled with them, the sound of an angry growl. I thrust my hand through the opening and groped about, for I felt sure he was not far off. In another instant I had, indeed, grasped him by the arm, and with much ado, dragged him through the chinks of the rock to the outer air. He was torn, bleeding—and empty-handed.