She did not know the face, nor was it like any that she had ever seen. There was such long hair, and so much beard, that the eyes seemed the only feature which made any distinct impression. Erica's heart now began to beat violently. Though wishing to be alone, she had not dreamed of being afraid till now; but now it occurred to her that she was seeing the rarest of sights—one not seen twice in a century, no other than the mountain-demon.
She sprang to her feet, and began to wade back through the high grass to the pathway, almost expecting to be seized by a strong hand and cast into the unfathomable tarn, whose waters were said to well up from the centre of the earth. Her companion, however, merely walked by her side. As he did not offer to carry her bundle, he could be no countryman of hers.
They walked quietly on till the tarn was left some way behind. Erica found she was not to die that way. Presently after, she came in sight of a settlement of Lapps—a cluster of low and dirty tents, round which some tame reindeer were feeding. Erica was not sorry to see these, though no one knew better than she the helpless cowardice of these people; and it was not easy to say what assistance they could afford against the mountain-demon. Yet they were human beings, and would appear in answer to a cry. She involuntarily shifted her lure, to be ready to utter a call. The stranger stopped to look at the distant tents, and Erica went on at the same pace. He presently overtook her, and pointed towards the Lapps with an inquiring look. Erica only nodded.
"Why you no speak?" growled the stranger in broken language.
"Because I have nothing to say," declared Erica, in the sudden vivacity inspired by the discovery that this was probably no demon. Her doubts were renewed, however, by the next question.
"Is the bishop coming?"
Now, none were supposed to have a deeper interest in the holy bishop's travels than the evil spirits of any region through which he was to pass.
"Yes, he is coming," replied Erica. "Are you afraid of him?"
The stranger burst into a loud laugh at her question: and very like a mocking fiend he looked, as his thick beard parted to show his wide mouth, with its two ranges of teeth. When he finished laughing, he said, "No, no—we no fear bishop."
"'We!'" repeated Erica to herself. "He speaks for his tribe as well as himself."