was in perfect
silence. On the bridge, from which the pass was visible for a good
distance in both directions, I had placed a lookout sentry; and a chain
of patrols was established around the bivouac.

'These arrangements, which occupied me some time, being completed, I
threw myself down beside my fire, and prepared for sleep. But somehow,
though I had passed a day of fatigue and exertion, I could not slumber;
every time I closed my eyes the vision of the old pilgrim was before me,
and a vague, undefined feeling of apprehension hung over me. I tried to
believe it was a mere fancy, attributable to the place, of whose terrors
I had heard so much; but my mind dwelt on all the disasters of the
Schwartz-thal, and banished every desire for repose.

As I lay there, thinking, my eyes were attracted by a little rocky
point, about thirty feet above me on the mountain, on which the full
splendour of the moonlight shone at intervals as the dark clouds drifted
from before her; and a notion took me--why and how I never could explain
to myself--to ascend the crag, and take a view down the valley. A few
minutes after, and I was seated on the rock, from which I could survey
the pass and the encampment stretched out beneath me. It was just such a
scene as Salvator used to paint--the wild fantastic mountains, bristling
with rude pines and fragments of granite; a rushing torrent, splashing
and boiling beneath; a blazing watch-fire, and the armed group around
it, their weapons glancing in the red light; while, to add to the mere
picture, there came the monotonous hum of the soldier's song as he
walked to and fro upon his post.

'I sat a long while gazing at this scene, many a pleasant thought of
that bandit life we Germans feel such interest in, from Schiller's play,
passing through my mind, when I heard the rustling of leaves, and a
crackling sound as of broken branches, issue from the mountain almost
directly above me. There was not a breath of wind nor a leaf stirring,
save there. I listened eagerly, and was almost certain I could hear the
sound of voices talking in a low undertone. Cautiously stealing along,
I began to descend the mountain, when, as I turned a projecting angle
of the path, I saw the sentry on the bridge with his musket at his
shoulder, taking a steady and deliberate aim at some object in the
direction of the noise. While I looked, he fired; a crashing sound of
the branches followed the report, and something like a cr