"But from the sword I take it he is one of old Peter's
wolfhounds."
"Well, he's found the wolves at any rate," replied the giant, with a
wide grin at his witticism. "And if Yellow Franz is the particular
wolf you're after, my friend, why here I am," he concluded,
addressing the American with a leer.
"I'm after no one," replied Barney. "I tell you I'm a stranger, and
I lost my way in your infernal mountains. All I wish is to be set
upon the right road to Tann, and if you will do that for me you
shall be well paid for your trouble."
The giant, Yellow Franz, had come quite close to Barney and was
inspecting him with an expression of considerable interest.
Presently he drew a soiled and much-folded paper from his breast.
Upon one side was a printed notice, and at the corners bits were
torn away as though the paper had once been tacked upon wood, and
then torn down without removing the tacks.
At sight of it Barney's heart sank. The look of the thing was all
too familiar. Before the yellow one had commenced to read aloud from
it Barney had repeated to himself the words he knew were coming.
"'Gray eyes,'" read the brigand, "'brown hair, and a full,
reddish-brown beard.' Herman and Friedrich, my dear children, you
have stumbled upon the richest haul in all Lutha. Down upon your
marrow-bones, you swine, and rub your low-born noses in the dirt
before your king.
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