o one but Mads
or Mike Foxtail who can set it to rights."

The traveller smiled a little incredulously, as well at the witchcraft
as at the singular way of dissolving it; but having already become
acquainted with one of the sorcerers just named, he felt desirous to
know a little about the other, who bore so uncommon and significant a
name. In answer to his inquiry, the keeper, at the same time reloading
his piece, related what follows:--"Mikkel, or Mike Foxtail, as they call
him, because he entices all the foxes to him that are in the country, is
a ten times worse character than even Black Mads. He can make himself
hard.[8] Neither lead nor silver buttons make the slightest impression
on him. I and master found him one day down in the dell yonder, with a
deer he had just shot, and was in the act of flaying. We rode on till
within twenty paces of him before he perceived us. Was Mike afraid,
think you? He just turned round, and looked at us, and went on flaying
the deer. 'Pepper his hide, Niels,' said master, 'I will be answerable.'
I aimed a charge of deer-shot point-blank at his broad back, but he no
more minded it than if I had shot at him with an alder pop-gun. The
fellow only turned his face towards us for a moment, and again went on
flaying. Master himself then shot; that had some effect; it just grazed
the skin of his head: and then only, having first wrapped something
round it, he took up his little rifle that lay on the ground, turned
towards us, and said, 'Now, my turn is come, and if you do not see about
taking yourselves away, I shall try to make a hole in one of you.' Such
for a chap is Mike Foxtail."

II.--ANSBJERG.

The two horsemen having reached Ansbjerg, entered the yard containing
the outhouses, turned--the keeper leading the way--towards the stable,
unsaddled their horses, and went thence through an alley of limes, which
led to the court of the mansion. This consisted of three parts. The
chief building on the left, two stories high, with a garret, gloried in
the name of "tower"--apparently because it seems that no true
manor-house ought to be without such an appurtenance, and people are,
as we all know, very often contented with a name. The central building,
which was tiled, and consisted only of one story, was appropriated to
the numerous domestics, from the steward down to the lowest stable-boy.
The right was the bailiff's dwelling. In a corner between the two stood
the wooden horse, in those da