They started up, and darted to the summit. With a lightning-like movement Hinrich glided from under Gotthold's hands, but as he turned to the left ran directly into Jochen's arms, and the two in one indistinguishable ball, slipped, rolled, and tumbled down the hillock faster than Gotthold could follow them. Jochen had taken a firm hold, but in the last turn he fell underneath; with a desperate effort Hinrich released himself, and was dealing a furious blow with a large clasp-knife he had drawn from his pocket, when Gotthold seized his arm and turned the weapon aside. Jochen had already started up again, and the next instant Hinrich Scheel, in his turn, was lying on the sand, face downwards, and Jochen, kneeling on his shoulders, was in the act of tying his elbows behind him with a small rope, which, after the manner of old coachmen, he always carried about with him.
"If you tie me, you'll crush me at the same time," gasped Hinrich Scheel. "I won't get up."
"Release him," said Gotthold.
"But we'll take care of this ourselves," said Jochen as he drew a pistol from the pocket of the prostrate man, and handed it to Gotthold. "There!"
Hinrich Scheel stood erect. His squinting eyes stared horribly at his assailant from a face distorted with rage. Suddenly he started back.
"You," he cried, "you! What do you want of me?"
CHAPTER XXXI.
There was a wild terror in Hinrich's look and gesture, and the rattling tone of his harsh voice.
"What is the matter?" cried Gotthold, shaking the man, who still stood before him as if petrified, rudely by the shoulder.
The powerful grasp produced a strange, mysterious effect upon the man. He stretched his long arms towards the dark sky, shook them wildly, waved them up and down, and then threw himself on his knees, bracing his left hand against the sand, and striking several furious blows with the right, as if he wished to murder some one he held by the throat; then he rose and shrieked, in answer to Gotthold's question:--