“Gone!” they cried, and “Gone! The King’s Treasure!” in every accent of incredulity and surprise. “Ay, gone,” said Prassade, “seized, stolen away,” unconsciously repeating the words of the keeper, “gone with my honor and the faith of the Outliers.” While the keeper told his story the listeners, in the manner of crowds, surged forward, closing between him and the dispirited Treasure party. At Prassade’s admission of his dishonor, they were disrupted suddenly by sharp, explosive sounds which I knew for the rapping of Mancha’s hammer. At the instant of the keeper’s announcement I had seen him rise and gird himself, beginning to look about like a man missing some necessary thing, too perturbed to recall just what he wanted. One of his young men slipped his hammer into his hand, and at the feel of its familiar handle a little of the strained look left his face. Then the crowd swallowed him in its eagerness to hear what Prassade and the keeper said. Now as the circle broke back from him and the sound of his whirling hammer, I saw the pale blotch of his face and hair distinct in the twilight. “Oh, Persilope,” he said, “take what measures you will for the recovery of the King’s Desire, but this is my business. Here should be no talk of honor or dishonor, but simple outrage. A man of the Far-Folk has crossed into our country and stolen the Maiden Ward. Let no man put any other name to it until I have brought her back again. But first bring me the smith. Before I go I would ask of him how it is, while the hostage stands, men of his breed have trespassed on my borders. Where is Ravenutzi?” The crowd turned upon itself. They had a system, though I could never understand it, by which they could locate and account for the tribesmen when called upon. Now on Mancha’s asking, the rustle and movement began, hesitated, and grew rapidly into a deep excited hum of resentment as the word passed from group to group that Ravenutzi was not among them. X THE LEDGE Between the morning and the dead hours of night I was awakened in the hut, feeling Evarra’s hands go over me lightly as squirrels’ as she gathered up her belongings. “What are you doing, Evarra?” “Making ready.” “For what?” “Child, the Ward is stolen and the Far-Folk have taken the King’s Desire, and you ask me that!” “What is that sound I hear, Evarra, like a wounded creature?” “It is the mother of the Ward.” “It hurts to hear it; may I go to her?” “You! What could you say to her? Besides, it is better for her to have her cry out before she comes where her man is.” “Where is Prassade?” “Where we must be at mid-morning, at the Ledge.” “And Mancha?” “Where he should have been this month past, at River Ward. It was there the stealers came through.” “Have you any word?” “Before the Council parted a message came from the trackers who had found a sign. The stealers went through by Broken Head. Sleep now,” she said.