A man of wood could not have been more relentless than Rolf; a man of stone could hardly have been less moved.
He argued the matter amiably: "It is true that by some mistake or other Kark wears a man's shape," he admitted; "yet it is easily seen that in every other respect he is a dog. Indeed I think there are few dogs that have less of courage and loyalty. Take the matter sensibly, comrade. If you cannot rejoice in the death of your enemy, at least consider what interest it is thus to study the habits of dwarfs. The cur who was useless during his life, will be honored by serving a good purpose in his death. Leif will think it of great importance to learn how these creatures are disposed toward white men. They have the most unusual methods of amusing themselves. Now they are doing things to his ears—" Renewed shrieks for help and mercy drowned the remainder of his words, and called forth fresh exertions from Alwin.
But when at last the Fearless One ceased, and lay spent and panting against the brawny chest, he became aware that the cries were growing fainter.
"Though they have in no way hurried the matter, I believe that he is almost dead now," Rolf comforted his captive.
Even as he spoke, the last faint cry ended in a gurgling choke,—and there was silence.
Instantly the scarf was slipped from Alwin's mouth, and the living fetters unclasped themselves from his limbs.
"Thanks to me—" Rolf was beginning.
The brief interval of silence was shattered by a cry from the sentinel on the river bank, followed either by an echo or an answering whoop from the opposite shore. Rolf stretched himself along the branch, just in time to see the men below scatter in wildest confusion and plunge headlong into the thicket.
"In the Troll's name!" he ejaculated. "When dwarfs run like that, giants must be coming!"
Alwin had clambered to his feet, and stood with his head thrust up through the leafy roof.