I was not punished.

Barop only laid his hand on my head, and said, "I am glad you are back again, Bear." Another trip to Blankenburg entailed results far more serious--nay, almost cost me my life.
I was then fifteen, and one Sunday afternoon I went with Barop's permission to visit the Hamburgers, but on condition that I should return by nine o'clock at latest.
Time, however, slipped by in pleasant conversation until a later hour, and as thunder-clouds were rising my host tried to keep me overnight.
But I thought this would not be allowable, and, armed with an umbrella, I set off along the road, with which I was perfectly familiar.
But the storm soon burst, and it grew so dark that, except when the lightning flashed, I could not see my hand before my face.

Yet on I went, though wondering that the path along which I groped my way led upward, until the lightning showed me that, by mistake, I had taken the road to Greifenstein.

I turned back, and while feeling my way through the gloom the earth seemed to vanish under my feet, and I plunged headlong into a viewless gulf--not through empty space, however, but a wet, tangled mass which beat against my face, until at last there was a jerk which shook me from head to foot.
I no longer fell, but I heard above me the sound of something tearing, and the thought darted through my mind that I was hanging by my trousers.

Groping around, I found vine-leaves, branches, and lattice-work, to which I clung, and tearing away with my foot the cloth which had caught on the end of a lath, I again brought my head where it should be, and discovered that I was hanging on a vine-clad wall.