He looked about him as if he feared to see the little people coming as he spoke. And then: “It may mean death.”
“Now tell me,” she said.
“They tried to stop my coming.”
“How?”
“And as I came out of my workshop where I make the Food of the Gods for the Cossars to store in their camp, I found a little officer of police—a man in blue with white clean gloves—who beckoned me to stop. This way is closed!’ said he. I thought little of that; I went round my workshop to where another road runs west, and there was another officer. This road is closed!’ he said, and added: ‘All the roads are closed!’”
“And then?”
“I argued with him a little. ‘They are public roads!’ I said.
“‘That’s it,’ said he. ‘You spoil them for the public.’
“‘Very well,’ said I, ‘I’ll take the fields,’ and then, up leapt others from behind a hedge and said, ‘These fields are private.’
“‘Curse your public and private,’ I said, ‘I’m going to my Princess,’ and I stooped down and picked him up very gently—kicking and shouting—and put him out of my way. In a minute all the fields about me seemed alive with running men. I saw one on horseback galloping beside me and reading something as he rode—shouting it. He finished and turned and galloped away from me—head down. I couldn’t make it out. And then behind me I heard the crack of guns.”