X.
How Hans Brought Terror to the Kitchen.
Hans found himself in a pretty pickle in the chimney, for the
soot got into his one eye and set it to watering, and into his
nose and set him to sneezing, and into his mouth and his ears
and his hair. But still he struggled on, up and up; "for every
chimney has a top," said Hans to himself "and I am sure to climb
out somewhere or other." Suddenly he came to a place where
another chimney joined the one he was climbing, and here he
stopped to consider the matter at his leisure. "See now," he
muttered, "if I still go upward I may come out at the top of
some tall chimney-stack with no way of getting down outside.
Now, below here there must be a fire-place somewhere, for a
chimney does not start from nothing at all; yes, good! we will
go down a while and see what we make of that."
It was a crooked, zigzag road that he had to travel, and rough
and hard into the bargain. His one eye tingled and smarted, and
his knees and elbows were rubbed to the quick; nevertheless One-
eyed Hans had been in worse trouble than this in his life.
Down he went and down he went, further than he had climbed
upward before. "Sure, I must be near some place or other," he
thought.
As though in instant answer to his thoughts, he heard the sudden
sound of a voice so close beneath him that he stopped short in
his downward climbing and stood as still as a mouse, with his
heart in his mouth. A few inches more and he would have been
discovered; - what would have happened then would have been no
hard matter to foretell.
Hans braced his back against one side of the chimney, his feet
against the other and then, leaning forward, looked down between
his knees. The gray light of the coming evening glimmered in a
wide stone fireplace just below him. Within the fireplace two
people were moving about upon the broad hearth, a great, fat
woman and a shock-headed boy. The woman held a spit with two
newly trussed fowls upon it, so that One-eyed Hans knew that she
must be the cook.
"Thou ugly toad," said the woman to the boy, "did I not bid thee
make a fire an hour ago? and now, here there is not so much as a
spark to roast the fowls withall, and they to be basted for the
lord Baron's supper. Where hast thou been for all this time?"
No matter," said the boy, sullenly, as he laid the fagots ready
for the lighting; "no matter, I was not running after Long
Jacob, the bowman, to try to catch him for a sweetheart, as thou
hast been doing."
The reply was instant and ready. The cook raised her hand;
"smack!" she struck and a roar from the scullion followed.
"Yes, good," thought Hans, as he looked down upon them; "I am
glad that the boy's ear was not on my head."
"Now give me no more of thy talk," said the woman, "but do the
work that thou hast been bidden." Then - "How came all this
black soot here, I should like to know?"
"How should I know?" snuffled the scullion, "mayhap thou wouldst
blame that on me also?"
"That is my doing," whispered Hans to himself; "but if they
light the fire, what then becomes of me?"
"See now," said the cook; "I go to make the cakes ready; if I
come back and find that thou hast not built the fire, I will
warm thy other ear for thee."
"So," thought Hans; "then will be my time to come down the
chimney, for there will be but one of them."
The next moment he heard the door close and knew that the cook
had gone to make the cakes ready as she said. And as he looked
down he saw that the boy was bending over the bundle of fagots,
blowing the spark that he had brought in upon the punk into a
flame. The dry fagots began to crackle and blaze. "Now is my
time," said Hans to himself. Bracing his elbows against each
side of the chimney, he straightened his legs so that he might
fall clear His motions loosened little shower of soot that fell
rattling upon the fagots that were now beginning to blaze
brightly, whereupon the boy raised his face and looked up. Hans
loosened his hold upon the chimney; crash! he fell, lighting
upon his feet in the midst of the burning fagots. The scullion
boy tumbled backward upon the floor, where he lay upon the broad
of his back with a face as white as dough and eyes and mouth
agape, staring speechlessly at the frightful inky-black figure
standing in the midst of the flames and smoke. Then his
scattered wits came back to him. "It is the evil one," he
roared. And thereupon, turning upon his side, he half rolled,
half scrambled to the door. Then out he leaped and, banging it
to behind him, flew down the passageway, yelling with fright and
never daring once to look behind him.
All the time One-eyed Hans was brushing away the sparks that
clung to his clothes. He was as black as ink from head to foot
with the soot from the chimney.
"So far all is good," he muttered to himself, "but if I go
wandering about in my sooty shoes I will leave black tracks to
follow me, so there is nothing to do but e'en to go barefoot.
He stooped and drawing the pointed soft leather shoes from his
feet, he threw them upon the now blazing fagots, where they
writhed and twisted and wrinkled, and at last burst into a
flame. Meanwhile Hans lost no time; he must find a hiding-place,
and quickly, if he would yet hope to escape. A great bread
trough stood in the corner of the kitchen - a hopper-shaped
chest with a flat lid. It was the best hiding place that the
room afforded. Without further thought Hans ran to it, snatching
up from the table as he passed a loaf of black bread and a
bottle half full of stale wine, for he had had nothing to eat
since that morning. Into the great bread trough he climbed, and
drawing the lid down upon him, curled himself up as snugly as a
mouse in its nest.
For a while the kitchen lay in silence, but at last the sound of
voices was heard at the door, whispering together in low tones.
Suddenly the door was flung open and a tall, lean, lantern-jawed
fellow, clad in rough frieze, strode into the room and stood
there glaring with half frightened boldness around about him;
three or four women and the trembling scullion crowded together
in a frightened group behind him.
The man was Long Jacob, the bowman; but, after all, his boldness
was all wasted, for not a thread or a hair was to be seen, but
only the crackling fire throwing its cheerful ruddy glow upon
the wall of the room, now rapidly darkening in the falling gray
of the twilight without.
The fat cook's fright began rapidly to turn into anger.
"Thou imp," she cried, "it is one of thy tricks," and she made a
dive for the scullion, who ducked around the skirts of one of
the other women and so escaped for the time; but Long Jacob
wrinkled up his nose and sniffed. "Nay," said he, "me thinks
that there lieth some truth in the tale that the boy hath told,
for here is a vile smell of burned horn that the black one bath
left behind him."
It was the smell from the soft leather shoes that Hans had
burned.
The silence of night had fallen over the Castle of Trutz-
Drachen; not a sound was heard but the squeaking of mice
scurring behind the wainscoting, the dull dripping of moisture
from the eaves, or the sighing of the night wind around the
gables and through the naked windows of the castle.
The lid of the great dough trough was softly raised, and a face,
black with soot, peeped cautiously out from under it. Then
little by little arose a figure as black as the face; and One-
eyed Hans stepped out upon the floor, stretching and rubbing
himself.
"Methinks I must have slept," he muttered. " Hui, I am as stiff
as a new leather doublet, and now, what next is to become of me?
I hope my luck may yet stick to me, in spite of this foul black
soot!"
Along the middle of the front of the great hall of the castle,
ran a long stone gallery, opening at one end upon the court-yard
by a high flight of stone steps. A man-at-arms in breast-plate
and steel cap, and bearing a long pike, paced up and down the
length of this gallery, now and then stopping, leaning over the
edge, and gazing up into the starry sky above; then, with a long
drawn yawn, lazily turning back to the monotonous watch again.
A dark figure crept out from an arched doorway at the lower part
of the long straight building, and some little distance below
the end gallery, but the sentry saw nothing of it, for his back
was turned. As silently and as stealthily as a cat the figure
crawled along by the dark shadowy wall, now and then stopping,
and then again creeping slowly forward toward the gallery where
the man-at-arms moved monotonously up and down. It was One-eyed
Hans in his bare feet.
Inch by inch, foot by foot - the black figure crawled along in
the angle of the wall; inch by inch and foot by foot, but ever
nearer and nearer to the long straight row of stone steps that
led to the covered gallery. At last it crouched at the lowest
step of the flight. Just then the sentinel upon watch came to
the very end of the gallery and stood there leaning upon his
spear. Had he looked down below he could not have failed to have
seen One-eyed Hans lying there motionlessly; but he was gazing
far away over the steep black roofs beyond, and never saw the
unsuspected presence. Minute after minute passed, and the one
stood there looking out into the night and the other lay
crouching by the wall; then with a weary sigh the sentry turned
and began slowly pacing back again toward the farther end of the
gallery.
Instantly the motionless figure below arose and glided
noiselessly and swiftly up the flight of steps.
Two rude stone pillars flanked either side of the end of the
gallery. Like a shadow the black figure slipped behind one of
these, flattening itself up against the wall, where it stood
straight and motionless as the shadows around it.
Down the long gallery came the watchman, his sword clinking
loudly in the silence as he walked, tramp, tramp, tramp! clink,
clank, jingle.
Within three feet of the motionless figure behind the pillar he
turned, and began retracing his monotonous steps. Instantly the
other left the shadow of the post and crept rapidly and
stealthily after him. One step, two steps the sentinel took; for
a moment the black figure behind him seemed to crouch and draw
together, then like a flash it leaped forward upon its victim.
A shadowy cloth fell upon the man's face, and in an instant he
was flung back and down with a muffled crash upon the stones.
Then followed a fierce and silent struggle in the darkness, but
strong and sturdy as the man was, he was no match for the almost
superhuman strength of One-eyed Hans. The cloth which he had
flung over his head was tied tightly and securely. Then the man
was forced upon his face and, in spite of his fierce struggles,
his arms were bound around and around with strong fine cord;
next his feet were bound in the same way, and the task was done.
Then Hans stood upon his feet, and wiped the sweat from his
swarthy forehead. "Listen, brother," he whispered, and as he
spoke he stooped and pressed something cold and hard against the
neck of the other. "Dost thou know the feel of this? It is a
broad dagger, and if thou dost contrive to loose that gag from
thy mouth and makest any outcry, it shall be sheathed in thy
weasand."
So saying, he thrust the knife back again into its sheath, then
stooping and picking up the other, he flung him across his
shoulder like a sack, and running down the steps as lightly as
though his load was nothing at all, he carried his burden to the
arched doorway whence he had come a little while before. There,
having first stripped his prisoner of all his weapons, Hans sat
the man up in the angle of the wall. "So, brother;" said he,
"now we can talk with more ease than we could up yonder. I will
tell thee frankly why I am here; it is to find where the young
Baron Otto of Drachenhausen is kept. If thou canst tell me, well
and good; if not, I must e'en cut thy weasand and find me one
who knoweth more. Now, canst thou tell me what I would learn,
brother?"
The other nodded dimly in the darkness.
"That is good," said Hans, "then I will loose thy gag until thou
hast told me; only bear in mind what I said concerning my
dagger."
Thereupon, he unbound his prisoner, and the fellow slowly rose
to his feet. He shook himself and looked all about him in a
heavy, bewildered fashion, as though he had just awakened from a
dream.
His right hand slid furtively down to his side, but the dagger-
sheath was empty.
"Come, brother!" said Hans, impatiently, "time is passing, and
once lost can never be found again. Show me the way to the young
Baron Otto or -." And he whetted the shining blade of his
dagger on his horny palm.
The fellow needed no further bidding; turning, he led the way,
and together they were swallowed up in the yawning shadows, and
again the hush of night-time lay upon the Castle of Trutz-
Drachen.
