Free The Strange Tale of the Snake Ring by John Holroyd Page B

possible.”
    He found a few sticks in a corner of the cave, blew on the embers and coaxed the fire into a flame. The smoke curled upwards to the ceiling, where it found its way out through small cracks in the rock – no way out there for a man.
    Through the bars of the stout wooden gate that blocked the mouth of the cave he could see the footpath leading into the forest. He grasped the bars in his hands. They were too strong to break, and too close together to squeeze through. Full of sorrow and disappointment, Thomas turned back to the fire, now blazing brightly. As he did so, an idea struck him like a flash of lightning – the fire! He could use the fire to escape!
    Gathering the last few sticks of kindling wood he quickly placed them against the lower bars of the gate. He brought a burning twig from the fire, pushed it under the sticks, and soon had a useful blaze. The smoke was drawn through the bars and rose into the outside air. The bars of the gate were old and dry, and soon began to burn.
    But now the fire began to die down, and Thomas looked desperately round the cave for more fuel. There was none. His eyes alighted on the small wooden chair that Zwerg usually sat on. He picked it up and dashed it against the stone wall of the cave. Fortunately, at the third or fourth blow, it splintered into pieces. Feeding the flames with the remains of the chair, he was delighted to see the fire begin to burn brightly again. Soon the bars of the gate were well alight. Thomas took the seat of the chair in both hands, and rammed the edge of it against the burning bars. They gave way, leaving a gap wide enough for a man to crawl through.
    It was a tense moment, because Thomas had to wait until the fire had died down enough for him to get out without burning himself. He listened intently for any sound, which might tell him that the robbers were returning. But all was quiet, and as soon as it was safe to do so, he took one of the furs from the robbers’ bed, crept through the gap in the gate, wrapped the fur around him to keep warm, and set off through the forest trees.
    As it had not snowed again since the robbers had left, their footprints could be clearly seen. At first, Thomas followed them, but soon realised that he could be in danger. If the robbers returned, they would follow the same track. So he left the path, and made his way through the trees, trying to walk on rough ground and tufts of grass, so that his own footprints showed as little as possible.
    Soon Thomas was very tired. It was hard work trudging over the rough ground. It was getting colder. He had been allowed very little exercise during the time that he had been a prisoner, and for the last few days had eaten very little. Soon he was so exhausted that he lost all sense of direction, and it was not long before he realised that he was lost in the forest. When he came to a place where there was no snow, but a thick bed of dry leaves, he wanted desperately to lie down, wrap himself in his fur cloak, and go to sleep.
    He sat down on the leaves, with his back to a tree, and struggled to keep awake. He remembered hearing that travellers who fall asleep in the snow never awaken.
    The dream was so clear and bright. Evening sunlight fell across the hayfield and sparkled on the river beyond. Gerda was standing by the gate, beckoning to him. But the more he hurried towards her, the farther away she seemed to be, until…
    Thomas awoke with a start. He could hear men shouting, and the jingle of horses’ harnesses through the trees.
    â€œIt’s the robbers come back,” he said to himself, and in his half-wakeful state he imagined that Riese and Zwerg must have bought horses in the town, and were riding back to the cave.
    He hid behind the trees and watched, and as his senses returned he realised that there were several men in uniform leading their horses along the forest path. The procession was led by a very dignified, elderly man riding a