he direction of the Dell. I thought
perhaps it was you, and went in that direction. But it must have been
Robert Stein. He was walking up and down there by the first bridge like
a sentinel. I thought to myself: What can he be waiting for? Not for
game; for in that case one doesn't run up and down; I thought: You must
get to the bottom of this. You get behind the high oak. There you can
see everything and can't be seen. But I was hardly there, when I heard a
commotion behind me. And what was it I heard? Your Andrew and Robert in
a most violent dispute. I could not understand anything clearly, but one
could hear that they were after each other for life and death. I was
just about to creep closer, when they already came rushing along. The
one on the further side of the brook on the rocky path, the other on
this side. The one on this side was Robert with his gun against his
cheek. Two steps from me he stopped--"Stand or I shoot." On the rocky
path no two persons can pass each other. There it is--"Man, fight for
your life." And now, pif! paf!--two shots in succession. The bullet from
the one on the rock whistled between me and Robert into the bushes. But
Robert's bullet--Ulrich, I have heard many a shot, but never such a one.
One could hear by the sound of the lead, it scented human life. I do not
know what sensation I felt when he on the other side collapsed like a
wounded stag--

FORESTER.

Andrew?

WEILER.

Who else could it have been? Hey? Perhaps he's home? Perhaps you know
where else he is? And the person that was shot had the rifle with the
yellow strap. He held it tight. The strap really glistened in the
twilight like a signal of distress. It was a weird sound, as the iron
parts of the gun in falling struck the rocks and the corpse tumbled
after it, breaking the bushes--till there was a splash in the brook
below, as if it started in terror. And when, after this, there succeeded
such a strange stillness, as if it had to bethink itself of what had
really happened, I had a sensation as though some one were pursuing me.
I should have been back half an hour ago, if I had not lost my way--I,
who know every tree thereabouts. Now you may imagine how I felt! Not
until I had reached the second bridge there toward Haslau, did I have
courage to stop a moment to take breath--there where the brook is
roaring among the rocks. Accidentally I looked down. There the brook was
playing with a colored rag. Do you know it, perhaps?