the stranger soon opened it before him, as it seemed, to take out some articles which were necessary for his use at night; and displayed in the process several large bags—­larger almost than the machine would have seemed able to contain—­which were evidently full of gold or silver money.  The cupidity of Conrad was excited by this view, and he would gladly have at once secured the prize even at the hazard of a personal struggle with the stranger; but the people of the inn (according to his account afterwards) were such as would have expected a portion of the spoil.  For this reason, although unwillingly, and trusting himself to sleep little, lest by any chance the prey should escape him, he abandoned his design of robbery, for that night; and on the next morning, having learned which way the stranger travelled—­for the latter exhibited no suspicions or apprehension of those about him, but spoke freely of his intended road, though he never mentioned anything of the charge he carried—­having ascertained this fact, he allowed the rider to depart, and after a short time, followed by a shorter track through the forest, which was practicable only to persons on foot, and which would enable him, had he even started later, easily to overtake the mounted traveller.  Now, knowing that his nearer road saved, as has been noticed, full a league of ground, the “Woodsman” moved on slowly; and accounted that, when he reached the point at which they were to meet, he should still have some time to wait for the stranger:  on emerging, however, into the high road, he found him to his surprise already approaching; and, what was still more extraordinary, mounted upon a black horse, when that on which he had left the inn, had certainly seemed to be a brown.  The portmanteau, however, which was all that Conrad looked to, was still behind the traveller, and on he came riding as if nothing at all was the matter:  the “Woodsman” never hung back, or staid reflecting, but levelled his rifle, and called upon him to “Stand and deliver,” or his next moment was his last.  The traveller upon this pulled up his horse with an air of great coolness; and, looking upon Conrad, said something, which, as the robber since says, he verily believes was—­“That he hoped he had not kept him waiting!”—­or words to that purpose; but he was too busy at the time to pay much attention to discourse.  “Do you know who it is you are going to rob though?” asked the stranger, addressing the “Woodsman” directly.  “Not I,” replied the latter, boldly:  “but, if you were der Dyvel himself, descend from that horse, and deliver the bags of money that you have on you, or you shall die!” Upon this, the black rider said no more; but dismounted quietly, although he had pistols in his holsters; and Conrad, immediately taking the portmanteau from the horse’s back, was so eager to be sure of the contents, that he drew his knife, and cut the fastenings on the spot.  In the meantime, the traveller might