CHAPTER XV
THE SCRIVENER DISAPPEARS
It was far into the night when the scrivener returned. The first quarter of the moon was all the light we had, but even at that how he made his way through the gloom of the trees was more than I could guess. He had left me in a spot that was far back from the highway where there was no path nor even a rock to guide him. But he was as unerring as one of his arrows.
“We have been outlawed,” he said with a laugh. “There’s a price on our heads.”
“Ah!” was all that I could say.
“It’s posted in the inn,” he explained, “and on some of the trees, for him who can to read. Fifty crowns for each of us, dead or alive.” He clapped me playfully on the shoulder. “It’s more than I ever counted myself to be worth.”
I knotted my brows. For all his gaiety I felt a chill climb slowly up my back. I was little more than an animal to be a target for all mankind.
“We’re done for, then,” I said and sighed.
“If they catch us,” he replied. “Even if they do, we have fifty arrows and two strong bows. If you can shoot, that will mean that fifty of them will drop before they lay hands on us. Don’t you think the odds are in our favor?”
I was not so sure.
“Fifty crowns is a large sum,” I said half to myself. “A man will go far for that.”