atrocious images went on in my mind and were cutting my breast more sharply than knives would do.
A terrible choice was, now, left to me; I had to choose between a life full of restless fear of death and a violent suicide. I had not the heart to go through a suicide, and yet, was horrified by the perspective to stick with the other decision. Stuck between the certain torments of life and the uncertain terrors of eternity, almost incapable to live and to die, I brought the sixth hour of my runaway in that way, an hour, completely pressed by torments, from which no one in my knowledge has been through.
I gathered my senses and slowly, without knowing it, I have deeply pulled the hat down my face, as if it could have made me unrecognizable before the eye of the lifeless nature; I had also, unintentionally, followed a narrow lane which led me into the darkest thicket, when suddenly a rough, commanding voice shouted somewhere before me: “Stop!”. The voice was really close; fortunately, my disguise and the well pulled down hat have prevented me for being immediately recognized.
I opened my eyes and saw coming towards me a wild man who carried a large, curved stick. His face was Herculean – my first consternation, at least, had made me believe so – and the colour of his skin was of a yellowish, mulatto black, from which the white of the squinted eyes came out horribly.
He had, instead of a belt, worn a thick rope wrapped twice around a green woolen cloth from which a large battle-knife stuck out near a pistol.
The warning would be repeated, and then, a forceful arm grabbed me firmly. The presence of an honest man would have scared me to death; however, the view of a villain gave me courage. In my current situation, I had cause to tremble before any honest man; however, none more before a robber.
- “Who’s there?“ said the man to me.
- “Your equal!” was my answer, “If you are really like the person who appears to me now!”
- “There is no way further on. What are you looking for here?”
- “Why do you have to ask that?“ replied I defiantly.
The man observed me a second time from head to toe. It seemed as if he wanted to hold my face against his, and to substantiate my answers against my external look.
- “You speak brutally like a beggar!” he said finally.
- "That may be. I was still one yesterday!“
The man laughed.
- “One could be swearing about that!”, he said, “You are still not worth that much today!”
- “For someone worse then!?“ I pursued further.
- “Dear friend! What are you hunting, then? What are you wasting your time for?”
I took a moment to gather myself. I did not know how the following words came to my lips:
- “Life is short”, I said slowly, “and Hell goes on forever.”
He stared at me.
- “May I be damned”, he said finally, “Or you have been somehow condemned to the gallows in the past!?”
- "That may still be happening. Goodbye, comrade!”
- “Hold it, comrade!” shouted he, while reaching for a tin bottle in his hunting bag, then took a forceful gulp from it and handed it over to me.
Escape and apprehension have flattened my forces; and during this whole, dreadful day, I have still not had any refreshment. I have already feared to crave in this surrounding forest where, three miles around, there was not any ray of hope for me to find water. People can imagine how happy I was to thank this offered sip. New forces flowed into my bones and fresh courage into my heart, and also hope and love for life; with this refreshing drink, I began to believe that I, hence, was not really so miserable; the welcome drink did a lot of good to me.
Indeed, I had to recognize that my condition was again close to a happy one; for, finally, after thousand failed hopes, I have found a creature who seemed to be like me. In my dreadful condition, I would share the cup of friendship with an infernal spirit, and find, finally, a trustful person again. The man has, now, stretched himself on the grass, I did the same.
- “Your drink did me a lot of good!” I said, “We must get to know each other better!”
He lighted a match to smoke his pipe.
- “Do you carry this handwork already for long?”
He looked at me fixedly.
- “What do you mean by that?”
- “Has this knife always been bloody?”, while pulling the knife from his belt.
- "Who are you?“, he said fearfully while putting the pipe away.
- “A murderer like you, but only just a beginner!”
The man stared at me, then took his pipe again.
- “Are you not at home here?” he said finally.
- “Home is three miles away from here. I am the owner of “The Sun” in L…., if you have already heard about me.“
The man jumped as if possessed.
- “The wild, hunting Wolf?” he shouted hastily.
- “Namely!”
- “Welcome, comrade! Welcome!”, he said and shook my hand firmly. “It is good that I finally have you, Boss. I meant to get hold of you already for long. I know you very well. I know everything about you. I have for long counted on you.”
- "Counted on me!? For what?“
- "The whole area has had enough of you. You have enemies; an officer has looked after you, Wolf. People have brought you down; people have become outraged by your actions!”
Then the man became aggressive.
- “Because you have shot at a pair of pigs which the Prince fed on our farmland and field anyway, they have kept you, yearlong, into imprisonment and under arrest; they have stolen home and livelihood from you, they have made you into a beggar. How did it happen, that a human being is not worth more than a rabbit? Are we not better than the cattle in the fields? How could a fellow like you be accepting that?”
- "Could I have done something about it?“
- “We will see about that. However, tell me, where are you going to, now, and what led you into hiding?”
I told him the whole story. The man, without waiting for me to finish, stood up with happy impatience, and mulled me near him.
- “Come, Brother Boss!”, he said, “Now, you are ripe; now I have you where I need you! I will confer you honour. Follow me!”
- “Where are you leading me to?”
- “Ask no more! Follow me!” – He dragged me forth with force.
We have walked for a quarter of a mile. The forest became more sloping, more impracticable and wilder, none of us uttered a word, until finally my guide’s whistle startled me from my thoughts. I opened my eyes wide; we were standing near the steep fall of a cliff which stooped down into a deep hole.
A second whistle answered from deep inside the cliff, and another person came by himself, appearing slowly from the depths.
My guide went down, first, he told me to wait there until his return.
- “I must first put the dog on a leach” he added, “You are foreign here, the beast would attack you.” So, he went.
Now, I stood alone before the hole, and knew perfectly that I was alone. My guide's absence of suspicion did not escape my attention. It would only cost me a firm resolution to run off my guide and be free; and in addition, my escape would be secured. I confess that I have foreseen that alternative. I looked down at the opening which I should be taking soon: it reminded me sombrely of hell's underworld from where any salvation is not to