Page:Popular Tales of the Germans (Volume 2).djvu/151

 tion, the potilion topped the hores, muttered omewhat between his teeth, and then went on again—then topped—and o everal times. John, who had now hut his eyes fat for fear, omened nothing good from thee manœuvres: peeping up cautiouly he aw, to his utter confuion, talking on about a tone’s throw before the coach, a jet-black figure, of a ize exceeding that of man, crowned with a broad Spanih tippet; but what was the mot upicious circumtance in its whole appearance, was its being without an head. If the coach halted, the figure alo halted; and when the potilion drove on, it proceeded alo.—‘Memate, dot thou ee any thing?’ cried the cow-hearted pilot from the coach-box, in a faultering voice and up-tanding hair. ‘I do, indeed, ee omething,’ anwered the other in a low tone; ‘but huh, hold your tongue, I am adly afraid we hall mis our way.’ John fortified himelf with all the prayers he knew againt evil pirits: with a long Rh