and William sunk, exhausted with fatigue, to the earth; but there was no rest for him in the forest; he was again disturbed by the slow and sullen approach of a stranger, mounted upon a huge and coal-black steed: he stopped before the demolished magic circle, and, addressing the huntsman,—“You have stood the trial well,” said he; “what do you require of me?”
“Of you, stranger, nothing,” replied William; “of that of which I had need, I have prepared for myself.”
“But with my assistance,” continued the stranger; “therefore a share of it belongs to me.” “Certainly not,” replied the huntsman; “I have neither hired you nor called upon you.”
The horseman smiled. “You are bolder than your equals are wont to be,” said he. “Take then the balls which you have cast: sixty for you, three for me. The first hit, the second miss. When we meet again you will understand me.”
William turned away. “I will not meet you again; I will never see you more,” he cried, trembling. “Why do you turn from me?” demanded the stranger, with a horrible laugh: “do you know me?” “No; no,” said the huntsman, shuddering; “I know you not; I will not
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