About two hours after he had set out from the farm, Master Nathaniel reached a snug little hollow at the foot of the hills, chosen for their camp by the consignment of the Lud Yeomanry stationed, by his own orders, at the foot of the Debatable Hills.
"Halt!" cried the sentry. And then he dropped his musket in amazement. "Well, I'm blessed if it ain't his Worship!" he cried. Some six or seven of his mates, who were lounging about the camp, some playing cards, some lying on their backs and staring up at the sky, came hurrying up at the sound of the challenge, and, speechless with astonishment, they stared at Master Nathaniel.
"I have come to look for my son," he said. "I have been told that ... er ... he came this way some two or three nights ago. If so, you must have seen him."
The Yeomen shook their heads. "No, your Worship, we've seen no little boy. In fact, all the weeks we've been here we've not seen a living soul. And if there are any folks about they must be as swift as swallows and as silent-footed as cats, and as hard to see—well, as the dead themselves. No, your Worship, little Master Chanticleer has not passed this way."
Master Nathaniel sighed wearily. "I had a feeling that you would not have seen him," he said; adding dreamily more to himself than to them: "Who knows? He may have gone by the Milky Way."
And then it struck him that this was probably the last normal encounter he would ever have with ordinary human beings, and he smiled at them wistfully.
"Well, well," he said, "you're having a pleasant holiday, I expect ... nothing to do and plenty to eat and drink, eh? Here's a couple of crowns for you. Send to one of the farms for a pigskin of red wine and drink my health ... and my son's. I'm off on what may prove a very long journey; I suppose this bridle-path will be as good a route as any?"
They stared at him in amazement.
"Please, your Worship, if you'll excuse me mentioning it, you must be making a mistake," said the sentry, in a shocked voice. "All the bridle-paths about here lead to nowhere but the Elfin Marches ... and beyond."
"It is for beyond that I am bound," answered Master Nathaniel curtly. And digging his spurs into his horse's flanks, he dashed past the horrified Yeomen, and up one of the bridle-paths, as if he would take the Debatable Hills by storm.