was a fatal shot, and the wolf fell dead.
Still he was pinioned by others, and for a long time he was so placedthat he could reach only one of them with his weapon, but this one hesent to the shades quickly.
Then one after another he dispatched them, although, unlike thegenerality of wolves, they fought until the last one was dead, beingundoubtedly nearly starved.
Meantime his clothing and flesh had been dreadfully torn, and the bloodwas flowing from at least a dozen ragged wounds, and he was so overcomewith exhaustion that he could scarcely rise to his feet.
But the first thing he did was to refill the chambers of his trustyrevolver, in case he might be attacked again.
His next thought was to attend to his wounds, but finding these requireda surgeon, he made his way sorely back to the tavern, and dispatched hisservant for one.
After relating the story of his adventure to the landlord while waitingthe surgeon's coming, that individual said:
"I should have told you about it, sir, but you men of the world do notbelieve in such things."
"What things--wolves?" asked Barnwell, between his groans of agony.
"Well, sir, not that exactly. In fact, I hardly know how to explainmyself to you, since I know nothing save by hearsay, and whatmountaineers say."
"About what?"
"Well, it has become folklore in these parts that there is a cavesomewhere in the Hardt Bergs, containing a vast amount of stolen gold,every coin of which is spotted with human blood, that is guarded by apack of fierce wolves placed there by the devil. It has been said thatdesperate men have tried to reach the treasure, but that they havealways been slain and eaten by the guardian wolves."
"Nonsense. Simply a story told in the twilight to frighten children, whoafter growing up come to believe it true."
The landlord shook his head.
"I see you also believe it. Well, I will not dispute or argue with youregarding the legend, but you must see that I did not come upon thatparticular cave, since I killed the wolves and am here with but a fewscratches."
"Rather hard scratches, sir."
"But I shall survive them, and neither this nor the danger of comingupon the real devil-guarded cave will deter me from visiting the hillswhenever I like."
"You are a brave man, sir."
"No; simply a sensible one. I am not superstitious, nor do I believe insuch legends. I would be ashamed to do so."
"Well," replied the landlord, shrugging his shoulders, "you can affordto do as you please, but you are sure to have no company when you gohunting in that direction."
"And I want none--at least, not the company of persons who believe insuch nonsense."
"Ah, the surgeon has come."
"Hurry him here, for my wounds pain me exceedingly," said Barnwell.
The surgeon was soon at his side, and proceeded to dress his wounds,exchanging only sufficient words to learn the cause of them, for he wasa man of medicine, not words.
"When will you come again?" asked Barnwell.
"When your hurts need redressing."
"And that will be?"
"To-morrow."
"How long will I probably be laid up?"
"A week," and he went away.
Barnwell experienced great relief from the skillful dressing his woundshad received, and he was presently able to collect his thoughts.
And naturally enough they ran back to the wolf's den, where he had foundthe starting point that corresponded with Batavsky's diagram, and thelegend which the landlord had told him of. What a startling coincidenceit was, to say the least of it!
Of course, he did not for a moment believe the supernatural part of it,but it certainly was strange that he should have been met by a pack ofhungry wolves just as it seemed that he was on the threshold of success.
But the more he thought the matter over, the more reasonable did it seemto him that, even if that were the location of Batavsky's buriedtreasure, it was only natural that wolves should rendezvous there. Buthow superstition should locate money there was more than he couldunderstand.
Then the thought came to his mind--what if that gold had been discoveredby someone and removed? In what other way could the legend of bloodygold have come into existence?
But speculation was not congenial to his temper just then. He had gone,so far, and nothing short of success or failure would satisfy him now.
That night his wounds pained when he lay down, and he slept but little.Indeed, it was nearly morning before anything like sound slumber fellupon his eyelids.
And even then he dreamed wild, exciting dreams, occasioned, of course,by the events of the day before. But in one of them he thought he sawBatavsky, and he smiled upon him, and while uttering no word, encouragedhim by his looks to persevere. With this he awoke, and the thread of thedream ran through his mind again.
"This will never do," said he, calling his servant to light a candle."There is something in the very air of mountainous Germany that is notreal, and that kindles superstition. I will read until morning."
But after reading awhile on a drowsy romance he fell asleep again, andthe sun was shining in at the lattice when he awoke.
When the surgeon had dressed his wounds again that day, he felt so muchbetter that he was assisted to a chair that stood under a broadlinden-tree, where, a part of the time, he read and restudied Batavsky'squeer diagram until it was fairly burned into his memory.
Then he would smoke, and make glad the landlord's heart by indulging ina bottle of wine, and again employ his servant in setting up targets forhim to practice upon with his pistol.
Already he had become somewhat famous for his eccentricities, but whenthe landlord and his one or two guests saw with what ease he shot a holethrough the Ace of Spades at fifty paces, they were unbounded in theirapplause.
Barnwell was indeed a wonderful shot, both with a rifle and a pistol,having won several prizes in shooting tournaments at home, and it seemedas though the experiences he had gone through during the previous two orthree years had toughened his muscles and steadied his nerves to aremarkable degree.
And thus he employed his time for five days, all the while impatient atthe delay, and on the sixth he was so far recovered that he could walkwith the assistance of a cane, and he celebrated the event by tellinghis servant to hold a lighted cigar in his fingers at the distance offifty paces, and from it he shot the ashes so deftly that the bulletscarcely raised a spark of fire.
This convinced him apparently that he was all right again, and in theafternoon he and his servant went out to ride.
This servant of his was a Russian, to whom he had been introduced byVola, and he was a character for fidelity and secretiveness. His namewas Ulrich, and Barnwell had saved him from going to prison by paying afine that he would never have been able to pay, and he at once becameattached to his new master by all the ties that bind a lesser intellectand fortune to the two degrees higher.
He never questioned, never told Barnwell's affairs, even if he knewthem, and was ever quick to know his slightest wants.
He was a Nihilist, and knew in a general way that his master was one,from seeing him so much with Vola, and so he silently worked and waited,fully believing that he would in time do good work for the downtroddenof his native land.
On the afternoon of the sixth day Barnwell seeing to be almost whollyrecovered, and Ulrich drove him out, going in the weird hills once more.
This time he was armed with two revolvers, and his rifle was ready tohand in the body of his wagon, the peculiarity in the build of which hasbeen mentioned before, and which consisted principally in a strong ironbox, incased by a fancy wooden one which was fashioned for a seat.
It was slightly odd in its build, but it was admired by everybody forthe superiority of its make, and generally regarded simply as atourist's carriage, made on purpose and in a superior manner.
Arriving at the end of the road that led up into the hills, they halted.
CHAPTER XV.
IN THE DEVIL'S CAVE.
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"Remain here, Ulrich, until I return," said Barnwell, alighting.
"Yes, sir."
Armed for almost any encounter, young Barnwell started to find the cavein front of which he had had such a sanguinary struggle a week before.
He had no difficulty in finding it; but he was on his guard this time.
There lay the carcasses of the wolves he had slain, and the very fact oftheir not having been devoured was positive evidence that there were noother wolves in the neighborhood.
Glancing around, and listening for a moment, he became convinced thatthe cave was now tenantless, and so he passed on beyond the first pointthat he had before discovered, and began looking for the next.
Holding the diagram in one hand, and a revolver in the other, he was notlong in finding it, and thus two points were gained that correspondedwith it.
Again he consulted and compared.
Ten feet marked on the diagram, and then there was