This thought grew stronger in my mind as the darkness came on. I spoke to Charles, who only nodded his head.
“If they come,” he said, after turning the matter over, “we must leave. The woods will be safer than it is here.”
To this we agreed. We kept our eyes on the alert, searching in every direction for a foe. The sun had dropped behind the horizon and the shadows of night were stretching themselves like black sheets on every side of us. The woods were silent and mysterious. Not a sound came to our ears except the twittering of a bird or two as he settled in his nest. The shrieking of the Dwarf had long since stopped.
“We must wait till he returns,” said Charles. “We cannot go without a word from him. He will——”
We both jumped to our feet. There was a rustling of the branches over our heads. The Dwarf dropped lightly to the ground and stood facing us in the gathering gloom. His mouth was spread open in a wide grin that showed his big pointed teeth.
“There’s no fear, now,” he said. “I’ve scattered them. Come into my cave. We must eat.”
He led the way. The fire had gone out. He relit it with a piece of tinder and dry wood. When the blaze had started up he drew from out the folds of his shirt a dagger and cast it at my feet. It was the dagger which I had from the scrivener, the one which I was to take to the Abbot of Chalonnes—which I thought I had lost forever in the Loire.
“I found that in the shirt of one of the men I shot down,” he explained. “Take it with you. Guard it better than you have already done. In another hour it will be safe for you to leave. You can keep to the road that leads towards the south. If there is any trouble, show it to the keeper of the inn that stands at the cross-roads. He is a friend of mine.”
