Hugh sobered.
"Art in the right," he said.
And he donned the casque of plate that hung at his saddle-bow. Gradually, too, he became possessed by the same spirit of melancholy that oppressed Matteo. Of the three only Ralph rode cheerful and happy, a lusty whistle on his lips. But the hours passed and nothing happened. 'Twas late afternoon when Matteo reined in abruptly and laid his hand on Hugh's arm.
"Dost hear?" he asked.
"What?"
"Yes, there it is again!"
"What?" repeated Hugh. "In this helm I hear naught a few feet distant."
Matteo beckoned Ralph to them.
"Hark," he said. "Give ear ahead, Ralph. Dost hear aught else than the whispering of leaves?"
Ralph inclined his head.