hed the village, through
the very middle of which ran the road, so that as they entered the
place, they could already see the point at the further edge where they
should leave it again. Here too there were very few on the road,
because it was so early in the day. But people were stirring, right and
left, at the doors and windows. The rumbling of the wagon awoke the
prying eyes of Waltheim. Each one beckoned or called to the others. It
was as if the little group were running the gauntlet. Fausch and Cain
walked with lowered heads, the smith, because it was his surly fashion,
the boy, through bashfulness, because he knew that now all eyes and
tongues were busy with him once more. If from here and there a greeting
came to the two, who scarcely looked to right or left, "Good-by,
smith!" "I wish you a good journey, Fausch!" the smith grumbled:
"Yes--yes," or some word that was hard to make out; but only rarely did
he step up to one of his customers or other acquaintance, shake hands
and say perhaps, "We're going away now," or something of the sort, and
then turn quickly away, leaving behind those who would have been glad
to ask more about this or that. And so they reached the end of the
village and came out again onto the straight open road. Cain breathed
more freely. As the noise of the place died out behind him, the gossip
in Waltheim would cease also, when he was out of sight.

[Illustration: MOONRISE IN THE MOOR]

Then their journey stretched on and on. For two days they traveled over
level country, stopping here and there at modest taverns to sleep or
for their meals, and the ranges of high mountains, which bounded their
view on the south, came nearer and nearer. Stephen Fausch and Cain
still continued to walk behind the wagon in the same way. They did not
talk much. But whenever they met any one, or passed through a town,
glances of surprise and curiosity followed them; for it seemed as if
the living images of night and day were walking side by side over the
land. Fausch's clothes were dark and coarse, such as he always wore.
They hung loose and heavy about his ungainly form, his hands were
blackened, and his large head, which was set upon his broad shoulders
as if thrust forward to meet some obstacle, matched them in color; his
thick curly hair was deep black, and his face looked as if tanned by
the hot sun of some foreign land. Beside him Cain seemed almost small,
although he was well above medium height. The symmet