“It is a pity,” said the young man.
“And besides,” hastily added Spiagudry, “the overturning of this mass of stone proves the presence of some superhuman being. Unless it be the work of the Devil, there is but one man in Norway whose arm could—”
“My poor guide, there you are, giving way again to your foolish fears. Who knows but this stone has lain thus for more than a hundred years?”
“It is a hundred and fifty years, it is true,” said Spiagudry, more quietly, “since the last scientific man observed it. But it seems to me to have been moved recently; the place which it formerly occupied is still damp. Look, sir.”
Ordener, impatient to reach the ruins, dragged his guide away from the marvellous pyramid, and succeeded, by gentle words, in removing the fresh fears with which this strange displacement inspired the aged scholar.
“See here, old man, you can take up your abode on the borders of this lake, and devote yourself to your important studies, when you get the thousand crowns reward for Hans’s head.”
“You are right, noble sir; but do not speak so lightly of so dubious a victory. I must give you one piece of advice which may help you to overcome the monster.”
Ordener drew eagerly toward Spiagudry. “Advice! what is it?”
“The robber,” said the latter, in a low voice, casting uneasy glances around him,—“the robber wears at his belt a skull, from which he usually drinks. It is the skull of his son, of the mutilation of whose corpse I am accused.”
“Speak a little louder, and don’t be frightened; I can hardly hear you. Well, this skull?”