Anton shuddered. He remembered that he had threatened the little lizard with this very treatment, and had had the same idea that it would be amusing to see.
"Or," continued the Baron, "I could crush you with one whack of my gun, so!—That would be very quickly done."
The icy shivers ran down Anton's back. Just this kind of terror that he was feeling must the squirrel have felt when Anton threatened him with the butt of his gun.
"Or I could fasten you out on the castle wall, as one fastens a bird that has been shot upon a barn door. There you could hang as a warning to traitors, until you fell to pieces," growled Rynkebryn, stroking his beard.
Things turned black before Anton's eyes. "Oh!" he thought with anguish. "This is just the way I threatened the dove, the innocent little creature!"
"Or I could chop your head off!" roared Rynkebryn, rushing toward Anton with clenched fists. "Then I could put your head on top of the tower where there is a glorious view. What a treat that would be for you!" All the men laughed so hard at this that they had to hold their sides.
But little Anton did not laugh. He stood there thinking, with deep remorse, how he had threatened to take the life of the harmless chamois, and put its horns over the door. "Oh, God be praised that I let it run!" he thought; but just then Rynkebryn's men caught hold of him, tied him securely, hand and foot, with strong rope, and took him to the castle prison.
Dark and damp indeed was the prison cell. It had no windows except, high up in the wall, a little opening with strong iron bars across it. The men threw Anton on the floor and then went out, locking the door after them with so many locks that Anton knew he could never open that door, even if he had both his hands free.
There he lay, looking up at the barred window. The sunset glowed through it still, but faded little by little, and darkness came on. High in the sky the stars twinkled out, one after another. And Anton lay and thought that when their light was quenched again, his life was to be put out, as if it were but a spark. What made him most unhappy was the thought that he could not get a message to the city in the valley, so that some one might know that Rynkebryn, the next night, was going to creep upon them like a thief, burn their city and devastate their land.
He laid his head on the damp floor of the cell and began to cry. All at once he heard something rustle,—a queer little sound. He thought it might be a rat that would bite him, and drew his legs up close; but something small came creeping lightly over him right up to his cheek. "Don't be afraid," it whispered. "It is only I, the little lizard you met on your way. I have hurried at your heels the whole time, until you disappeared through the castle door. But how have you brought yourself to this? You should have followed my advice and turned back in time,—you who can neither creep nor glide."