There seemed something sinister in his words. A horrible, ridiculous feeling came over me that we were caught in a net, as it were, and doomed to stay at Silberbach for the rest of our lives. But I looked at the man. He was simply stolid and indifferent. I did not believe then, nor do I now, that he was anything worse than sulky and uncivilised. He did not even care to have us as his visitors: he had no wish to retain us nor to speed us on our way. Had we remained at the "Katze" from that day to this, I don't believe he would have ever inquired what we stayed for!
"I cannot walk back to Seeberg," I said half indignantly, "we are too tired; nor would it be safe through the forest alone with two children."
The landlord knocked some ashes off his pipe.
"There may be an ox-cart going that w
