"Perhaps, after all, it is only a marsh fire, and it's no use following that," Ceolwulf growled, as he knocked his shin against a large block of stone lying half concealed among the tangled brushwood.
But, at this moment, as if to contradict him, the flame leaped up with greater brilliancy, and he saw a tall figure pass in front of the flame and disappear in the inky black beyond.
Paying more attention than ever to the inequalities of the ground, and arranging his arms as carefully as he could to prevent the light of the fire falling upon them, and announcing his presence by an unlucky gleam, Ceolwulf crept warily up, fearful lest the slightest sound should betray his approach; while ever and anon the unearthly cry that had previously startled him rang vibrating through the silence.
Keeping well in the shade of every bush and obstacle that intervened between him and the light, he was at last able to creep within a distance sufficient to enable him to make out the objects immediately within range of the fire, and the sight that he saw was not reassuring to one imbued with all the wild magic of the mystic northern legends.
Squatting before the fire, and occasionally attending to an iron pot that hung suspended over it from an iron rod that looked as if it had once been used for other purposes, which was held up by two forked sticks placed far enough off from the fire to prevent their being burnt, was a strange, uncanny-looking figure. Nothing could be seen, intervening immediately as it did between the fire and Ceolwulf, but the coal-black outline of a figure sparsely clad, with a hood over its head, and, as it turned towards one side or the other, showing the outline of a very hooked nose and chin, that, owing to the loss of the creature's teeth, approached the nose so closely as almost to touch it. A few locks of wispy hair hung down over the forehead beneath the hood, and a long and skinny arm from time to time stirred the mixture in the pot, while the other arm seemed to hold together the garment in which the figure was dressed. As Ceolwulf looked intently, fascinated and awe-struck by the sight of this being, whom he could not possibly mistake for anything else than a most undoubted witch, surprised by him in her unholy work, he heard her mutter scraps of sentences from time to time, but could not make out a word she said.
"She is brewing spells, I do believe. Now for whom can she be doing that? If only I could get her on our side it would be bad for Arwald. Hullo! what she's doing now? Soul of Woden! but there's another, and it's got horns!"
This remark was caused by a hairy object, which Ceolwulf had not before noticed, raising a gaunt head from which two long curving horns protruded, and which proceeded to get up on its haunches, and then upon its feet, and presented the outline of a fine goat.
"So she's really raised the soul of him who dwells in Hellheim. I hope he won't tell her I am here," muttered Ceolwulf, clutching more vigorously than ever at his wolf's snout. "I wish I could make out what she is saying. What a height she is! and where's she gone to now? I shall have to move round a bit to see the other side of the fire."
The figure had risen up, and had taken the pot off the hook which suspended it over the fire, and had then disappeared into the darkness on the other side, the goat remaining, turning however in the direction where Ceolwulf was, and beginning to utter the plaintive "hinny" that has procured for its race the name of "Nanny goat."
"I don't like this; I believe it has seen me, and is telling her I am here. Well, if I must come out, I must; but I'll hold on a bit longer yet, and perhaps if it does not look at me I shan't feel so queer." So saying, Ceolwulf moved to one side, and, drawing back, made his way round to the other side of the fire.