| abstract | - The family is very troubled when Elizabeth begins having nightmares and sleepwalks. In her dream she is on a ferris wheel which keeps going around and around and there is nobody there to let her off. John Boy feels that she may be remembering the carnival that came to the mountain some years before, and that perhaps she had a frightening experience at that time. It is remembered that while the carnival was there previously, Elizabeth became lost for a time and was eventually found down by the river, however she was unable to tell anyone what had happened to her, nor how she managed to get to the river. As the episode unfolds, Elizabeth gradually unlocks her memories and is eventually able to tell everyone just what happened to her on that fateful day. By remembering she also solves a mystery for the Baldwin sisters. This episode also looks at Ben who is becoming very concerned at being continually called Shorty, and is worried that he is not growing as quickly as his brothers. To add insult to injury he realises that his sister Erin, and his little brother Jim Bob are both taller than he is now. He decides to buy some Wonder Shoes which will increase his height by two inches, but to his dismay, nobody in the family even notices.
- Prithviraj is set to sneak into Kannauj while the swayamvara is going on, having to either avoid or backstab some guards before reaching the palace to meet Sanyogita and smuggle themselves out of Kannauj. The enraged King Jaichand sends an army after them, while Prithviraj and Sanyogita must safely reach Delhi in a carriage. On the way, the player must enter a tunnel to fight some bandits, loot some gold, and rescue a few soldiers, before exiting the tunnel and heading to Delhi. Then the player must prepare an army to break the siege on Delhi by destroying both of Jaichand's castles. The player must also visit some villages outside Delhi to get their help.
- Translated from the Danish by Hanna Astrup Larsen and Published in Twelve stories as Røverstuen, 1827 IF I should have roused in anyone expectations of a new ghost story, I am truly sorry, and all the more so as perhaps the first may now be susceptible of a natural explanation and may end with a "Pshaw! was that all!" But on the other hand, I am happy in that, instead of a real ghost story, I can serve up an elopement as regular as any that ever was found in a novel: an elopement, not in the daytime, but in the night; not through the door, but through the window; not in a carriage, but on a horse. The eventful night that was to decide the future of the sorrel and the isabella brought little sleep either to the family or the servants. All lay there in tense expectation of things to come. The mewing of cats, the hooting of owls, the howling of dogs drove away the sandman whenever he came stealing in. The stablemen heard the horses breathing, snorting, and kicking; the farm overseer was sure that sacks were being dragged along the floor in the attic; the dairymaid thought it sounded exactly as if the rocking churn were going; the housekeeper plainly heard someone rummaging in the pantry. Nor was there any more sleep in the gold guest-chamber; the squire and the junker lay silently glancing every little while at the silver bell that hung between them, but it gave no sound. When the clock in the tower struck one, Junker Kaj began to think he had lost his wager, but consoled himself with the thought that losing anything to your wife is only giving from one hand to the other. In short, the night passed--at least as far as the tower room was concerned--as quietly as if there were no ghosts in the world. With the first glimmer of daylight the two gentlemen, who had only partly undressed, got up and hastened to say good-morning to the brave young ghost-tamer. They rapped on the door; no _"Entrez"--_perhaps both were sound asleep. Papa opened the door; they went in. _Peste!_ the young lady's bed was empty and the coverlet thrown aside. "Bravo!" cried Junker Kaj, "she has fled, and the Isabella is mine." The old gentleman said not a word, but turned to the maid's bed. She was not to be seen either, but when he lifted the coverlet, she was lying there flushed and perspiring as if in a violent fever. Upon being eagerly questioned by the squire, she first answered nothing, but stared at them with a wild look in her face. Then at last she found her tongue and told her story in disjointed sentences: shortly after midnight she had seen a terrible ghost coming right through the wall. She had been so frightened that she had crept under the coverlet and hadn't dared to remove it; what more had happened she didn't know. But it was evident enough; the window was open, and down below stood a ladder--Mistress Mette had been abducted, but by whom? What an uproar in the whole house! What a wailing and screaming and lamenting! Curses without an object, questions without an answer! "After them!" was the next impulse of the rather and the bridegroom; but whither? The mistress, who Was the most cool-headed of them all, advised a general muster, and the squire personally called the roll of every living creature. He finally declared that he didn't miss anyone, and the entire drawn-up garrison was of the same opinion, until Mistress Kirsten asked, "Where is the clerk?" "The clerk! The clerk!" went from mouth to mouth. They looked around, they looked at each other--no! The clerk was really not there. The bailiff and two other men ran to the office, and the squire called to the grooms, "Saddle the horses and bring them to the door, like thunder and lightning!" The bailiff came back, breathless and frightened, saying that the missing man was really gone; his bed hadn't been slept in, his spurs and riding whip were not to be found. In the same moment one of the stablemen came running and said that Jezebel was gone. All stood as if turned to stone, looking at each other and saying nothing, until Mistress Kirsten broke the silence. "Our lady daughter," she said, "could not elope with a clerk. He has sneaked in here as a spy. I suspect the robber comes from the west--see if you can't trace them on the road to Vium, and now be off! It may be possible to catch up with them, for the Isabella can't run very far with two." Her guess proved to be true. Tracks of a horse in full trot were seen on the road mentioned, and as a further proof a ribbon bow and a little farther on a glove, both the property of Mistress Mette, were found not far from the house. Armed with guns, pistols, and swords, the squire, the junker, the bailiff, the gamekeeper, and four other well accoutred men rode out briskly; and the mistress called after them, "Bring them back dead or alive!" We will accompany the Aunsbjerg squire on his second expedition for a part of the way. The track was plain as far as to Vium, but there the pursuers would have lost it, if a peasant of whom they made inquiry had not told them that a couple of hours before daybreak he had heard the trotting of a horse going out of the town toward the west. They followed this hint and found the track again pointing in the same direction past Hvam Tavern. There they learned that a couple of hours ago the dogs had made a great noise. Evidently the speed of the fugitives was slowing, and this could be seen also from the tracks. The pursuers came to Sjörup. Here a man who was standing outside the house for a certain purpose had heard a horse passing and thought he could make out two people on it. But now the trail was lost. Several roads ran out from here, all with deep and narrow wheel ruts--which was the right one? The fugitives had not followed any of them--probably from fear that the horse should stumble in the ruts--but had ridden into the heather. Of the three main roads one ran to the northwest, one to the southwest, and one right between. While these were taken under advisement one after another, the talk turned also on the great event of the night and on the suspicious clerk. One of the men said he thought he had seen him before, when he served in the cavalry, but he couldn't remember where. Another had seen a stranger speaking with him secretly a couple of days ago in the woods, and it seemed that the stranger had addressed him as "Cornet." At that a light flashed upon the old gentleman. "Ha!" he said. "Then we follow the middle road! It goes to Vestervig. I'll swear the clerk is none other than the major's third son who was a cornet with the Cuirassiers. I remember Mistress Kirsten once warned me against him, saying he was hot on the trail of Mistress Mette. And what of you?" he cried to the bailiff. "My lord," replied he, "you yourself saw the letter from the bailiff at Vestervig. It's he that has fooled us all, or else the letter was a forgery. Besides the fellow was so quiet and decent and hard-working, so polite and humble, that I would never have dreamed of taking him for a nobleman." "His estate lies in the moon," said the old gentleman, and put his horse to a trot. "A dollar to him who first catches sight of the runaway!" The troop had still to ride six miles before it could reach the ford across Karup river. Meanwhile, by your leave, my reader, I will run on to the ford and follow the fugitives, who are just now touching the farther shore. The poor isabella, weary from her double burden and the forced pace for many miles, walked slowly and with tottering steps up the heathery hill. The cornet--for it was really he--often turned back with a worried look, and each time he snatched a kiss from his sweet Mette who, dressed in her riding habit, sat behind him, clasping him with her arm. "Do you see anyone yet?" she asked anxiously, for she didn't dare to look for herself. "Not yet," he answered, "but I am afraid--the sun is quite high already; they must be on their way after us--if only the mare can hold out." "But your brother's cart?" she asked after a pause. "It should have met me by the river at daybreak," he answered. "I can't understand what has happened to it. We still have eight miles before we get out of the heath, and if meanwhile they have found the right trail--" As he was speaking, they reached the top of the bank, and the great western heath spread out before them like an ocean; but no cart, no living creature was to be seen. The cornet reined in the horse to let it breathe and half turned round in order to get a better view of the eastern part of the great heath which they had passed over. That, too, was bare and desolate: nothing to be seen but a few peat stacks; nothing to be heard but the cackling of the black cocks, the rushing of the river, the breathing of the Isabella, and their own sighs. For a few moments they stood there; then the young lady broke the silence with the question. "Isn't there something stirring way over there?" She spoke in a low voice as if she feared that it might be heard on the other side of the desert. "We have no time to lose," he said. "I am afraid it's your father coming out there." With that, he turned to the west again and spurred his horse. "Oh, my father," she sighed and clasped her abductor more closely. "In Hungary," he said, "--it's now just five years ago--we had taken up our quarters for the night in a village. In the morning we were surprised by the Turks. When I got on my horse, there were already several houses on fire; we had to retreat, and I was one of the last. About half a mile out of the village, a little Hungarian, a boy of ten or twelve years, came running after me, pursued by a troop of Janizaries. He was half naked. I saw he couldn't hold out long. So I turned back and took him up on my horse. Just then the first Janizary reached me. Before he fell, he gave me this memento of him across my face. But I saved my little Hungarian. He is at my brother's, and was to have met us today. My dearest, then I felt better than now." He looked around again. "They seem to be gaining on us--if I drive the mare harder, she'll drop." They rode on a way--he with a depressed, she with an anxiously beating heart. "I shall have to walk," he said, dismounting, "that will help her. Don't look back, dearest lady." "Oh, God!" she cried. "Is it they?" "There are seven or eight of them," he said. "So far as I can see, they're mounted." "How far away are they?" she asked again. "A little over two miles, perhaps three," he replied. In spite of his admonition, she looked back. "I don't see anybody," she cried. "Neither do I now," he said, "but they're most likely down in a valley--there's one coming up, and another--Come, come, poor Bella!" he cried and tried to pull the horse after him. "Usually you arch your neck and lift your feet high enough, now you're dragging them along the ground and stretching your head like a fish that has to be pulled out of the water by main force." After a little while the young lady asked, "Do you think they can see us?" "They're riding right after us," replied the cornet, "they're gaining on us more and more--" "Heavens!" she cried, "if they reach us! Oh, I'm afraid my father will kill you; but I will protect you with my weak body, dearest Holger. I can't live if they kill you!" During this nervous, constantly interrupted talk they had covered about two miles from the river into the western heath. The pursuers were now close to the eastern river bank; they could be plainly seen and counted. The fear of the fugitives had now almost become desperation--there was no gleam of hope. The cornet breathed almost as hard as the horse; the young lady wept. Suddenly there rose from the tall heather a large man clad all in brown and carrying a gun in one hand and a low-crowned hat in the other. The fugitives stopped, "Who's there? Where do you come from?" cried the cornet in his military fashion. "From where the houses stand outdoors and the geese go barefooted," answered the man. "Where are you from, and where are you going? But wait a bit, haven't the two of us met lately? Aren't you the person who begged for me when Niels Gamekeeper was going to do for me?" "Black Mads!" cried the cornet. "That's what they call me," replied the poacher; "but how does it happen that I meet you here so early in the morning and with such a young lady? Maybe you've been poaching, too? If I can help you with anything, say so." "In need the nearest friend is the best," replied the cornet. "I am the major's son at Vestervig, and have fetched me a sweetheart at Aunsbjerg. Her father is after us with a whole troop of mounted men. If you can save us, or hide us, I'll thank you as long as I live and reward you as well as I'm able. But it must be soon," he added quickly, as he turned around, "for there they are right on the other side of the river." Mads held up his hat to shade his eyes from the sun. "I'll say so! There he is with all his men. Nobody worse than your own kin, said the fox when the red dogs were after him. If you'll promise never to tell about the place I'm taking you to, I'll see what I can do." The young lady promised, and the cornet swore it. "Now listen, children," he went on, "they're just riding up the last hill on the other side of the river. Before they can get up on this side, it'll take a little while, and they can't see what we're doing. So now we'll put up a fence that they can't jump over." As he said so, he laid down his gun, took out his tinder box, and struck fire. Then he pulled up a few handfuls of dry moss, covered the tinder box with it, blew on it till a flame rose, and then threw the moss in among the heather. Instantly there was a crackling and roaring fire which spread rapidly. During this work, which the fugitives did not at first understand the purpose of, Black Mads gave vent to his thoughts in short, disjointed sentences. "The wind's on our side--the heather's dry--now Niels Gamekeeper can light his pipe--it's the second time my tinder box has helped him--the squire will scold and curse about his grouse because I'm roasting them without gravy--but needs must--God helps him who helps himself--there now, she's burning!" Then he got up and said to the cornet, "Now do as you see I do. Pull up a tuft of heather, light it, run ten paces to the north, set the heath on fire, then pull up a tuft again, set fire all along to the north as far as that knoll you see over there, about two gunshots away. I'll do the same to the south, and then we'll run back here just as fast. The young lady'll have to stay with the horse. It'll only take a minute. Now we begin: Light before and dark behind!" With this formula the poacher began operations. The cornet followed his instructions, and in a few minutes a stretch of the heath two miles wide was in flames. Both the firemen rejoined the trembling lady. "Now you've earned your breakfast," cried Mads, "if you'll come with me and put up with what we have. But, heyday! what'll we do with the mare?" He gave the Isabella a slap with his flat hand. "Can you find the way home alone?" Oh," said the young lady, "she follows me wherever I go." "No, by the Lord, that she mustn't! She'd lead them to where we were. The door of my house is too narrow, and we don't dare to leave her outside.--You're too good to waste--but we've got to think of ourselves." The cornet, who realized his purpose, took his lady by the hand and drew her aside as if to guard her against the flames, which were in fact coming nearer--though slowly--against the wind. The poacher took his gun, cocked it, put it behind the ear of the horse, and fired. The young lady turned with a scream and saw the poor Isabella sink down in the heather without a sound. A few tears of pity ran down the girl's pale cheeks. "The nag's dead as a herring," said Mads to comfort her. "She didn't as much as hear the report." And with that he took off the bridle, put the saddle and bundle on one shoulder, slung his gun over the other, and set out. He urged the fugitives to follow him as quickly as they could, and cheered them with the assurance that his palace was not far away. "And don't look back," he said, lengthening his stride; "remember Lot's wife." The young girl, though dressed in her riding habit, could not long keep up the pace in the tall heather. She often stumbled and got caught in the branches. So the cornet, without asking permission, picked her up in his arms, and in spite of her protest, carried her. Although the specific weight of a pretty girl must be equal to that of a homely one, nevertheless I have been told that the former is much easier to carry, especially for a young cavalier who is in love. I hope, therefore, that no one will doubt my veracity when I say that the cornet carried his lady without resting for about half a mile. Black Mads offered once or twice to exchange burdens with him, but the cornet shook his head, and we can readily see that such an exchange would not have suited anyone. As the young lady had one arm around his neck and with the other hand constantly lifted his hat, fanned him, wiped the perspiration from his face, while she kissed his flushed forehead, that naturally made her lighter and him stronger. "Here we are!" cried the leader at last, throwing down the saddle and bundle at the foot of a small heather-clad hill. "Where?" said the cornet, as he too set down his burden. He looked around without being able to discover anything that looked like a human habitation. A suspicion quickly arose in his mind, but vanished almost in the same moment: if the man had meant to rob and murder them, he could easily have carried out his purpose and with no risk of resistance while his intended victim in a literal sense had both hands occupied. "Here," said the poacher, as he lifted a very large and broad piece of heather turf and put it to one side. "A few days ago I was living above ground. They wouldn't let me stay there, but it's a poor mouse that hasn't got more than one hole." As he said this, he moved aside four or five stones that were large but not too large for a strong man to handle, revealing an opening roomy enough to crawl through. "Why, this looks as if you had dug out foxes," said the cornet. "That's what it's s'posed to look like," replied Mads. "But before we go in we'd better look around--not for the Aunsbjerg people, they can't have got past the fire yet--but there might be others around." They scanned the heath in all four quarters: toward the south, the west, and the north there was not a living creature, and the entire eastern horizon was hidden by clouds of smoke, so thick that the rays of the morning sun couldn't penetrate them. "Please go in, but you'll have to stoop," said Mads, as he crawled in on all fours. "Just you follow me! The door is low, but the house is big enough for us all. I'll get your things right away." With some difficulty they followed their guide and soon found themselves in the underground dwelling. It was a good-sized room with walls of large stones and a ceiling of logs lying close together. A lamp was suspended from it and with its dim light barely revealed the furniture, consisting of on one side two beds, one large and one small, on the other side a bench, a table, a couple of chairs, a chest, and a pair of hanging cupboards. In the small bed lay three naked children who, at the arrival of the strangers, hid under the coverlet like wild ducklings. On the edge of the large bed sat Lisbeth Madame Mads knitting a stocking, which in her amazement she dropped with both hands in her lap. At one end of the table stood a small, red-haired man dressed in skins from his chin to his knees, whom Mads introduced as his good friend Renard Foxtail. "We were digging out his half-brother here," he added smiling, "and then we found this hiding-place. Renard thinks it may have been a robbers' den once upon a time, but it may have been a burial mound, for we found some black pots with ashes and bones in them." At the mention of a robbers' den the young lady shuddered slightly. Her lover noticed it and said in French, "Don't be alarmed, my dearest! We are safe here. But I am sorry that the first house I bring you to should strike you with fear and repugnance." "I'll show you my whole palace," continued the poacher, as he opened a door in the background. "Here's my kitchen, but we don't dare to make a fire here except at night. It's my pantry, too," he added, pointing to a salt-trough and some legs of deer that were hung to smoke over the fireplace. "I have bread and meat and a drop of mead, too, that I bought in Viborg for the last deerskin." With these words he set a jar and a wooden dish with food on the table. "Eat and drink of what we have! And when you want to start out, we'll get a safe guide for you." The cornet pressed the hand of the honest troglodyte, saying, "At this moment I can offer you nothing but my heartiest thanks--" "I don't want anything," Black Mads cut him short, "only promise me that you'll never let on about me or my den." This easy promise was given with assurances by everything sacred; and the lovers sat down to a breakfast which hunger and joy over their escape combined to make all the more palatable. Acting on the advice of their host, they decided to wait till evening before resuming their interrupted journey. Meanwhile Renard offered to go out reconnoitering, both to see where the pursuers had gone and to find out what had become of the cart from Vestervig. The first time he got no farther than the entrance to the den, where he observed that the pursuers had now ridden around the fire and started out in two divisions toward the west. A few hours later he ventured a little way out into the heath, and came back with the report that they had now ridden toward the northwest and that the heath would most likely be safe from them, as they could hardly imagine that the fugitives were still there; it seemed they must have been given information that had thrown them off the scent. A little after noon he and the host went out again, the former to order a cart from one of the villages in the west. The latter came back after half an hour and reported that out there he had come upon a young fellow who looked rather queer. From the way he talked, he might be a German. He inquired about the way to Hvam Tavern and asked if there hadn't passed some travellers that day. The cornet asked more particularly about the man's appearance and dress, and from the description he was sure it must be his Hungarian. Then they both went out and were lucky enough to catch up with him about a mile from the den. We shall not dwell on the Hungarian's account of why the wagon had not shown up; the reason was simply that he and the driver had mistaken for Karup river a more westerly stream, where the cart was now waiting. Furthermore, we shall only mention briefly that a little before noon he had been stopped and questioned by the pursuing riders and had not only managed to answer in such a way as to allay suspicion, but had sent them off in a direction where he supposed the fugitives would not be--though all the time in the most painful uncertainty about their fate. Finally, I think it unnecessary to go into details about the development of the catastrophe, but will hurry toward the conclusion after the manner of novel writers. The cornet and his sweetheart arrived safely the next morning at Vestervig, where they were made man and wife, and to begin with received from the owner, the oldest brother, a small manor at Thy where they could live. Junker Kaj got first a long nose and secondly--about a year later--a still richer heiress in Fyn. The Aunsbjerg squire and his lady cast off their daughter entirely and--in spite of all humble and repentant letters from her and her husband--refused to forgive them.
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