On a mountain height ,by a barricade of trees which separated the forests of Thuringia from those of the Catts, a young watchman stood and guarded the steep path which led from the lowlands of the Catts to the Thuringian heights. Over his head towered a gigantic beech tree, on both sides of him, along the crest of the hill, ran the boundary fence, and in the thicket bloomed the blackberry and wild rose. The youth held a short spear in his hand, and a long horn hung suspended by a leathern strap round his neck; leaning listlessly against the tree, he hearkened to the voices of the forest, the tapping of the woodpecker, or the soft rustling of the branches as some wild animal passed through the thicket. From time to time he looked impatiently toward the sun, and cast a glance behind him, where, in the distant opening of the valley, lay blockhouses and enclosures for herds of cattle.

Suddenly he bent forward and listened; on the path before him sounded a light footstep, and through the foliage of the trees the figure of a man became visible, who with quick steps was approaching him. The watchman pulled round his horn, and grasped his spear ready to throw; and when the man stepped out of the thicket on to the open boundary line, he called to him, directing the point of his spear toward him, "Stand, traveler, and give the password, which will save thee from my weapon."

The stranger sprang behind the last tree on his side of the fence, stretched out his open right hand, and replied, "I greet thee peacefully, as a stranger in the land, ignorant of the password."

The watcher answered him suspiciously, "Thou comest not like a chieftain, with horses and attendants, thou carriest not the buckler of a warrior, neither doest thou appear like a wandering trader, with pack and barrow."

The stranger replied, "I come from afar, over mountain and valley; my horse I lost in the whirlpool of the stream, and I seek hospitality among thy people."

"If thou art a foreigner, thou must tarry till my comrades open our country to thee. Meanwhile let peace be between us."

The men had observed each other with keen eyes; they now leaned their spears against the boundary trees, entered into the open space, and proffered hands. In shaking hands each examined the countenance and bearing of the other. The watchman looked with honest admiration at the powerful arm of the stranger, who was but few years older than himself, as well as at his firm deportment and proud mien.

"A sword-fight with thee on the greensward would be no trifling matter," he said, frankly; "I am almost the tallest man on our mead bench, yet I have to look up to thee. Accept a greeting, and rest under my tree; meanwhile I will announce thy arrival."

While the stranger fearlessly accepted the invitation, the watchman raised his horn, and blew a loud call into the valley of his people. The wild tones echoed from the mountain. The watchman looked toward the huts in the distant opening, and nodded his head contentedly, for a movement was visible about the houses; after a short time a horseman hastened toward the heights. "Nothing beats the strong blast of a buffalo horn," he said, laughing, and gliding up to the stranger in the heather, darted a sharp look along the glade of the wood and into the valley before him. "Speak, wanderer; there is perhaps a pursuer on thy track, or possibly thou mayest have seen warriors in the wood?"

"Nothing sounded in the forest but what belongs to it," answered the stranger. "No bloodhound of the Catts has been watching my path for the last six days."

"The sons of the Catts come blind into the world, like young puppies," exclaimed the watcher, contemptuously. "Yet I think thou must understand well how to conceal thyself in the forest if thou hast escaped their watching."

"Before me was light, behind me was darkness," proudly answered the stranger.

The watchman looked with interest on the man; on his brown countenance exhaustion was clearly to be seen; he leaned heavily against the tree. For some time the watchman reflected. "If thou hadst to fear the vengeance of the Catts, thou has found bad traveling fare, for the wood offers now not even berries or wild fruit. See, I am only a retainer of the Chieftain's; I know not whether he will grant you his bread and salt; but a hungry man in the woods I may not shun. Take and eat from my wallet." The watchman caught up from behind the tree a pouch of badger skin, and offered from it black bread and meat. The stranger looked thankfully at him, but remained silent. Then the watchman held out to him a small horn, and opening the wooden cover, said kindly, "Take also salt; under this tree is my home, here I am the host."

The stranger seized it. "Blessed be to thee this gift of the gods; we are friends." He ate ravenously; the youth looked on contentedly.

"When the warm sun sends her rays through the foliage of the trees, then thy office of watcher is a pleasant service," said the stranger, at last renewing the conversation; Abut when the wind blusters in the stormy night, then courage is needful for the forest-warden."

"The border boundary here is consecrated to the good gods of the people," answered the watchman; "from both sides the holy springs run down into the valley, but we forest people are familiar with the night-song of the trees."

"Thou art young," continued the stranger; "thy lord shows great trust in thee, committing to thee singly the care of thy country's boundary."

"There are more men at the boundary fence," explained the watchman. "We fear little an inroad of hostile bands through the mountain forest, for it would be difficult for the foot of the stranger to penetrate over rock and forest stream up to the fence. But report says that a short time since a fierce war has been kindled between the Allemans and the Caesar whom they call Julian, and ten days ago the wild army of the gods swept past us through the air at night-time" - he looked timidly up to the skies - "since then we have guarded the boundary."

The stranger turned his head, and looked now for the first time toward the native land of his companion. The long waving mountain heights rose in successionone behind the other; across where the opening widened lay a deep valley, and the white foam of the forest torrents sparkled in the sunlight.

“And now let me know, good comrade, whose badge thou wearest, and whither thou art about to conduct me?”

“In all the valleys on which your eyes rest, and farther down into the plain, he whom I serve, Answald, the son of Imfried, rules as cheiftain.”

“In a foreign land I heard that a great king ruled over the people of Thuringia; they called him King Bisino,” answered the stranger.

“Thou hast heard right,” assented the youth. “But this forest country is free under its own race of chieftains from the most ancient time, and the great King of the country is contented that we should guard the boundary, and send every year horses to his court. Little do we forest people care about the King, and our Chieftain seldom goes to court at the King's castle.”

“And does not King Bisino count your herds of cattle, which I see there among the huts?” asked the stranger.

“Hum! - there was once a noise of arms in the villages, because the King would fatten his boars under our oaks, also the King took pleasure in hunting wild oxen in our woods, but one has heard no more of that.”

The stranger looked earnestly down into the valley. “And where is the residence of your lord?”

The watchman pointed along the opening of the valley. “It lies at the outlet of the mountains; for a quick walker it is about three hours down the valley, but a horse from the pasture-ground would carry us there in shorter time. Dost thou not hear the sound of hoofs? The horn has announced to my comrades that a stranger needs guidance; he who relieves me is coming.”

A horseman was trotting up the forest path - a fine-looking youth, like the watchman in countenance and bearing; he flung himself from his horse, and spoke in a low tone to his companion. The watchman delivered over to him his horn, threw his leather pouch over his shoulder, and offered the horse to the stranger. “I follow your steps,” said the latter, declining it; he greeted the new watchman with hand and head, who was regarding him with curiosity, and turned with his leader toward the valley.

The small steep path led down by the winding course of the torrent, among giant trees whose long mossy beards shone silver-grey in the sunshine, over roots which lay on the path like huge serpents, and twisted themselves into high arches, where the stones which formerly lay under them had been washed away by the water. The border of the stream was hemmed in by driftwood and heaps of dry rushes; there also the power of the water had in the early spring swept fallen stems against the side, so that they lay with leafless brances in wild confusion; but the knives of the forest people had cut a small path through the tangle of the brushwood. With fleet steps the men hastened down the valley; they sprang with long leaps from stone to stone, from tree to tree, the young watchman in front. He often swung himself high through the air, as a feather ball sent with a throw bounds merrily along; and wherein a wide channel impeded the way he repeated the leap back again in order to give courage to his companion. He had thrown the bridle over the neck of the horse, which, following like a dog, leaped after the man; to the steed also the roughness of the path was playwork. The eyes of the watchman measured with satisfaction a powerful leap which the stranger had taken over the torrent, and examined afterward the footprint on the soft ground. “Thou hast a powerful stride for a weary man,” said he; “it appears to me that thou hast already before now ventured on broader leaps on bloodier heaths. By thy footprint I see that thou art one of our people, for the point of the foot tends outward, and the pressure of the ball is strong. Hitherto from thy speech I have considered thee as a foreigner. Hast thou ever beheld a Roman footprint?”

“Their feet are small; they walk with a short step on the whole sole, like weary people.”

“So say our people who have been in the west, I have hitherto seen only the unarmed traders of the black-haired people,” he added apologetically.

“May the Fates keep far from your soil the Roman foot!” answered the stranger.

“Thou speakest like our old men; but we young ones think, if they do not come to us, we will certainly go to them, for their country must be wonderful - all the houses of colored stone, the whole year soft sunshine, and in winter the earth green, sweet wine as common as thin beer, the vessels and seats of silver; the maidens dance in gold ornaments and silk dresses, and the warrior is lord of all this splendor.”

In vain the watchman awaited the answer of the stranger; they walked together for a time quite silent; at last the youth took the horse by the bridle. “Here the road through the valley becomes better; mount, that we may arrive at our destination before evening.” the stranger laid his hand on the horse's withers, and sprang with great strength into the seat; the leader nodded contentedly, and whistled softly; the horse bore the rider at a gallop down the valley, and the youth ran on foot beside him, poising his spear, and occasionally shouting to the horse, which then turned its head to him, and neighed in answer.

“Who are the women there in light dresses?” inquired the stranger, as they halted on an eminence near the open country, and looked into the enclosure.

“Oh,” exclaimed the watchman, “the maidens from the Chief's house are come; there is Frida's brown cow; do you hear the pretty bell which hangs round her neck? and there is the maiden herself.” The heightened color in his face betrayed that the meeting would be pleasant to him. “Behold the old huts; in them the herdsmen dwell. In summer the cattle of the village go to the forest pastures, and our maidens come and fetch the produce of the milk cellars to the Cheiftan's house. Over there in the beech wood the swineheard dwells with his herd; the sun does not shine in any country on finer hogs.”

They entered the clearing, the watcman removed the bars which impeded the entrance to the cattle pen, and the stranger rode into the enclosure, where the cows were trotting about bellowing, while the wife of the herdsman with her maidens carried the milk pails to the cool cellars, which were built of stone and moss, away from the sun, and held long rows of milk vessels.