"When the fox is caught, he cries no more. Kill him!"
"My brave Jonas," rejoined Hacket, "let this man's death be Hans of Iceland's first exploit among you."
"Yes, yes!" cried many voices.
Ordener, astounded, but still undaunted, looked about him for Hans of Iceland, with whom he had so valiantly disputed his life that very morning, and saw with in- creased surprise a man of colossal size, dressed in the garb of the mountaineers. This giant stared at Ordener with brutal stupidity, and called for an axe.
"You are not Hans of Iceland!" emphatically exclaimed Ordener.
"Kill him ! kill him !" cried Hacket, angrily. Ordener saw that he must die. He put his hand in his bosom to draw out his Ethel's hair and give it one last kiss. As he did so, a paper fell from his belt.
"What is that paper?" asked Hacket." Xorbith, seize that paper."
Norbith was a young man, whose stern, dark features bore the stamp of true nobility. He picked up the paper and unfolded it. "Good God! "he exclaimed, " it is the passport of my poor friend, Christopher Nedlam, that unfortunate fellow who was beheaded not a week ago in Skongen market-place, for coining counterfeit money."
"Well;" said Hacket, in a disappointed tone, "you may keep the bit of paper. I thought it was something more important. Come, my dear Hans, despatch your man."
Young Norbith threw himself before Ordener, crying:
"This man is under my protection. My head shall fall
