Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Iron from Ekeby
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his poor head had often been strange; and now, as
he stood and looked at the river, his old brain got
more and more confused. The grey river which
flowed by, with its many glittering wavelets, was a
huge serpent with silver scales lying in wait for its
prey. The high, yellow sandhills with their
sedge-covered crests, through which the river had cut its
path, were the walls of a pitfall, at the bottom of
which the serpent lay; and the broad road which
made an opening in its walls and waded down through
deep sand to the ferry where the barges were moored
was the very door to the dreadful death-hole. And
the little old man stood and stared before him with
his small blue eyes. His long, white hair flew in the
wind, and his cheeks, which usually bloomed a gentle
pink, were now quite white with fear. He was
as sure as if he had been told that some one would
come along that road and throw herself into the
mouth of that waiting serpent.
The cavaliers were just about to cast loose, and
had already grasped the long poles to push the
barges out to midstream, when Lövenborg cried,
“Stop, I say; stop for God’s sake!”
They quite understood that his head was
beginning to be confused on feeling the barge swing
under his feet, but, unconsciously, they arrested
their lifted poles, and he who had felt that the river
lay in wait and that some one would surely come
and throw herself into it, pointed with a warning
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