"But how then should I attend to my errand?" Anton was now half-way across the bridge.
As he stood there, the dove came flying and floating on her wings above the abyss.
"Since you can't float and fly like me,
Turn back, turn back and homeward flee,"
said the dove, flying near Anton's cheek.
"Yes, that I will do when once I have given the Baron his letter," said Anton, "but I don't turn back when I am half-way over the bridge, nor flee homeward until my errand is done."
So he proceeded. The thin branches in the loosely-made bridge creaked and bent under his feet. On both sides of him was the dizzy chasm. He had a queer pain in his heart and everything turned black before his eyes; but he pressed his hands against his breast where he had hidden the letter, kept his gaze straight ahead, and walked on with firm step. There! Now he could draw a long breath, a sigh of relief; for he was at last safely across the frail bridge,—on the other side of the chasm, and under the castle wall.
At first he could see no opening in the wall; it stretched up as hard and impenetrable as the rock upon which it stood, but when Anton stole around it, he found a small door,—an iron door with many locks and fastenings. He picked up a stone and knocked hard on the door, but no one answered. Everything around him was still as death.
Suddenly he heard a strange rumbling sound, which he thought at first might be the echo of the thunder among the rocks; but no. The sound came from the hall where Baron Rynkebryn and his men sat and drank, and roared with laughter loud enough to make the castle tremble.
