"Has he spoken, Evan?" I said.
"Ay, Master," he answered, with a grin that minded me of other days with him. "He says he will take us to the place where Owen lies, if we will promise to spare his life."
"We will promise that," I answered. "We will let him go his own way after we have seen all that we need."
"Let me rise, then," the man said quietly. "I will shew you all."
"Do not untie his hands, Evan, but let him walk," I said. "He is not to be trusted, if he is like his master."
It was the elder of the two whom we had before us, and he seemed downcast and harmless enough as we let him rise, though he was unhurt. He had run on while the younger turned to stay the pursuers, but Evan had caught him. He led us along the path, which I suppose his own feet and those of Morfed had worn, unless it was old as the menhir itself, and on the way he said suddenly:
"Let me ask one thing of you. Has the menhir fallen?"
"Ay, with the cross graven on it," I answered; and my words checked a laugh that was on Evan's lips.
"I knew it. I heard the crash," the man said. "That is an end therefore."
But Howel told the whole story as he had seen it take place, from the time when Morfed flew at me, to the time when the waters were still again; and as he heard, the man clenched his hands and bowed his head and went on quickly, as if that would prevent his hearing. After that he said nothing.