his death with a crucifix in his hand, which he gave to the priest, saying gently:

'I should not like it to be hurt.'

Haspinger and Spechbacher narrowly escaped with their lives. The former, putting no trust in Prince Eugene's promises of pardon, made his way through danger and difficulty into Switzerland, whence he came back by unfrequented paths to Carinthia, and on to Vienna. The 'Rothbart' lived to a good old age, and only died at Salzburg in the year 1858.

The story of Spechbacher's adventures is more wonderful than any romance. Hearing that a price had been put on his head, he wandered about, hiding how and where he could; and now his old hunting acquaintance with the country stood him in good stead. Once when he was taking refuge in a certain house, some wretched fellow betrayed where he was, and the house was immediately surrounded by Bavarians. Spechbacher climbed

up on to the roof, and from thence took a flying leap (probably a leap in the dark, which this time turned out lucky), and made off into the neighbouring forest, where he hid for nearly a month, starved almost to death with cold and hunger. Wandering about, one day, to his great surprise, he met his wife and children, also half starved, and flying from the enemy. Together they all took refuge on the Volderberg, till, after some weeks, their hiding-place was discovered, and Spechbacher had to fly once more, while his family seems for some reason to have been able to return home in safety.

A cavern on the Eisgletscher (ice-mountain) now became Spechbacher's home, and there he lived in the bitter cold, not daring to light a fire lest the smoke should betray him, till March came, and with it a gleam of sunshine. The poor chilled prisoner crept out of his cave into the sunshine to get a little warmth into his frozen limbs, when suddenly down

came an avalanche, or snow-torrent, from the mountain above, and swept the unfortunate man along with it in its headlong course. After being carried down a quarter of a mile Spechbacher found himself alive, certainly, but with a dislocated hip, and in this miserable condition he contrived painfully to drag himself to the village of Volderberg, and into a stable belonging to a friendly peasant, who carried him to his own home at Rinn. The place was full of Bavarians, and there was no refuge for the hunted man save in his own cow-house, where his faithful servant Georg Zoppel (the same who accompanied him over the Bridge of Hall in the adventure of the black poodle) hid him without revealing his presence even to Spechbacher's wife, fearing lest her anxiety might betray the secret. For six long weeks the injured man lay under the straw in the cow-house, hearing and seeing the Bavarian soldiers as they came in and out, and knowing that his life hung on a thread,

till at length the troops were moved on and he was free to emerge. Then it was found that the perfect stillness in which he had been forced to lie had cured his hip, and he was able to make his way along the Salza river and through the Styrian Alps to Vienna where he was joined by his wife and children. Eventually he died at his old home, at Hall, in 1830.

THE HUT IN THE SNOW.

ALL this time the Sandwirth, with his young secretary Sweth, was living in the tiny hut on the Pfandler Alp, a world of ice and snow around them, pinched with cold in the bitter frosts, and yet not daring to light a fire, and depending for food on the provisions which Pfandler and other brave friends contrived to bring them. With the food came messagesmessages even from Kaiser Franz himself— imploring Andreas to make his escape to Vienna, where he might live in safety. But to all entreaties the Sandwirth returned the same answer: 'I cannot leave the country.'

He would not even shave off the long