is
all I ask.' For answer he seemed to throw himself off the box, so
quickly did he reach the ground. Then he stretched out his hands
appealingly to me, and implored me not to go. There was just enough of
English mixed with the German for me to understand the drift of his
talk. He seemed always just about to tell me something--the very idea
of which evidently frightened him; but each time he pulled himself up,
saying, as he crossed himself: 'Walpurgis-Nacht!'

I tried to argue with him, but it was difficult to argue with a man
when I did not know his language. The advantage certainly rested with
him, for although he began to speak in English, of a very crude and
broken kind, he always got excited and broke into his native
tongue--and every time he did so, he looked at his watch. Then the
horses became restless and sniffed the air. At this he grew very pale,
and, looking around in a frightened way, he suddenly jumped forward,
took them by the bridles and led them on some twenty feet. I followed,
and asked why he had done this. For answer he crossed himself, pointed
to the spot we had left and drew his carriage in the direction of the
other road, indicating a cross, and said, first in German, then in
English: 'Buried him--him what killed themselves.'

I remembered the old custom of burying suicides at cross-roads: 'Ah! I
see, a suicide. How interesting!' But for the life of me I could not
make out why the horses were frightened.

Whilst we were talking, we heard a sort of sound between a yelp and a
bark. It was far away; but the horses got very restless, and it took
Johann all his time to quiet them. He was pale, and said, 'It sounds
like a wolf--but yet there are no wolves here now.'

'No?' I said, questioning him; 'isn't it long since the wolves were so
near the city?'

'Long, long,' he answered, 'in the spring and summer; but with the
snow the wolves have been here not so long.'

Whilst he was petting the horses and trying to quiet them, dark clouds
drifted rapidly across the sky. The sunshine passed away, and a breath
of cold wind seemed to drift past us. It was only a breath, however,
and more in the nature of a warning than a fact, for the sun came out
brightly again. Johann looked under his lifted hand at the horizon and
said:

'The storm of snow, he comes before long time.' Then he looked at his
watch again, and, straightway holding his reins firmly--for the horses
were still pawing the ground restlessly