And she would have her own way, for she was spoiled and very obstinate; and she and Gerda sat in the carriage, and drove over stock and stone deep into the forest.  The little robber girl was as big as Gerda, but stronger and more broad-shouldered, and she had a brown skin; her eyes were quite black, and they looked almost mournful.  She clasped little Gerda round the waist, and said: 

“They shall not kill you as long as I am not angry with you.  I suppose you are a princess?”

“No,” replied Gerda.  And she told all that had happened to her, and how fond she was of little Kay.

The robber girl looked at her seriously, nodded slightly, and said: 

“They shall not kill you, even if I do get angry with you, for then I will do it myself.”

And then she dried Gerda’s eyes, and put her two hands into the beautiful muff that was so soft and warm.

Now the coach stopped, and they were in the courtyard of a robber castle.  It had burst from the top to the ground; ravens and crows flew out of the great holes, and big bulldogs—­each of which looked as if he could devour a man—­jumped high up, but did not bark, for that was forbidden.

In the great, old, smoky hall, a bright fire burned upon the stone floor; the smoke passed along under the ceiling, and had to seek an exit for itself.  A great cauldron of soup was boiling and hares and rabbits were roasting on the spit.

“You shall sleep to-night with me and all my little animals,” said the robber girl.

They had something to eat and drink, and then went to a corner, where straw and carpets were spread out.  Above these sat on laths and perches more than a hundred pigeons, and all seemed asleep, but they turned a little when the two little girls came.

“All these belong to me,” said the little robber girl; and she quickly seized one of the nearest, held it by the feet, and shook it so that it flapped its wings.  “Kiss it!” she cried, and beat it in Gerda’s face.  “There sit the wood rascals,” she continued, pointing to a number of laths that had been nailed in front of a hole in the wall, “Those are wood rascals, those two; they fly away directly if one does not keep them well locked up.  And here’s my old sweetheart ‘Ba.’” Arid she pulled out by the horn a Reindeer, that was tied up, and had a polished copper ring round its neck.  “We’re obliged to keep him tight, too, or he’d run away from us.  Every evening I tickle his neck with a sharp knife, and he’s badly frightened at that.”

And the little girl drew a long knife from a cleft in the wall, and let it glide over the Reindeer’s neck; the poor creature kicked out its legs, and the little robber girl laughed, and drew Gerda into bed with her.

“Do you keep the knife while you’re asleep?” asked Gerda, and looked at it in a frightened way.

“I always sleep with my knife,” replied the robber girl.  “One does not know what may happen.  But now tell me again what you told me just now about little Kay, and why you came out into the wide world.”