The forest suddenly seemed abnormally silent, as if even the birds were holding their breath. A moment later, Alex heard it, too, the soft, steady tramp of footsteps coming nearer.

The old man stood and held his cane ready.

XIV.

THE DEVIL’S PULPIT

Alex saw dim figures through the trees, disappearing in and out of the dappling light. He searched the ground, spotted a rock the size of his fist, and quickly stuck it in his pocket, just in case.

The approaching party gradually became more distinct. They were strangers, three men and two women. Alex saw his grandfather’s stance relax, but the old man remained wary.

“Hallo!” one of the women called out, spotting them.

The group joined them by the hut. They carried backpacks and ropes, and wore bright hiking gear appropriate to the terrain and the weather, taking in Alex’s grandfather’s elegant gray suit and coat with a mixture of surprise and respectful amusement as he greeted them.

“Excuse,” one of the men said, speaking English with a German accent. “We left our reward hidden here.” He bent and reached into a hole in the planking beneath the hut, pulling out a six-pack of beer: “The treasure of the mountain!”

He shared the cans among his friends, offering the last to the old man, who raised it in salute as they drank.

“We have been climbing,” the man said, gesturing behind with his thumb. “At the Kandelfels. You know the story of the pulpit?” He said this last part to Alex, who shook his head.

“So. You are on the witches’ mountain, you know, my lad,” the man went on, winking at Alex’s grandfather. “A place of legends. Now, there are rock crags just up there, the Kandelfels, very wonderful for climbing. And at the very top, there used to be a . . . what is the word . . . a natural outcropping? A great, massive black rock that hung out. They called it die Teufelskanzel—the Devil’s Pulpit! Because the legend says it was where all the witches from this area would gather on their special nights, and the demons and devils would come to them there from the other side, and they would all dance beneath the moon and perform . . . well, whatever wild rituals dancing witches and devils might perform.”

“Please accept our apologies,” another of the men interrupted. He wiped foam from his mustache and grinned. “This is Richard’s favorite story. We have banned him from discussing it with us, and so he bores any strangers he encounters at any opportunity.”