The brothers hurried up, tore out the wedge, rushed into the cabin, and carried out the old man in their arms from amid the flames, which were just going to take hold on his feet.
They carried him out and laid him on the cool green turf, and then they stood beside him and neither dared speak a word.
After a while old Witting opened his eyes, and as he saw them he asked nothing about them. The only question he put was:
“Did you find Quest anywhere in the mountain?”
“No, grandfather,” answered the brothers. “Quest is dead. He was drowned this morning in the well-spring. But, grandfather, forgive us, and we will serve you and wait upon you like slaves.”
As they were speaking thus, old Witting arose and stood upon his feet.
“I see that you are already forgiven, my children,” said he, “since you are standing here alive. But he who was the most upright of you three had to pay with his life for his fault. Come, children, take me to the place where he died.”
Humbly penitent, Careful and Bluster supported their grandfather as they led him to the ledge.
But when they had walked a little while they saw that they had gone astray, and had never been that way before. They told their grandfather; but he just bade them keep on in that path.
So they came to a steep slope, and the road led up the slope right to the crest of the mountain.