sat down under a large tree and fell fast asleep. She slept all night long and far into the morning. The night was warm and dry, with no chill in the air, and she awakened much refreshed. The sun was almost in the zenith when finally she rose and started on her way. Soon, coming to a sparkling mountain brook, she stopped to drink of its cool waters. She had just risen from a large rock by the water’s edge and stood shaking the clear drops from her finger-tips, when the sound of voices startled her. She turned; and there through the trees behind her rode on prancing horses a party of huntsmen, their spears and knives glittering in the sunlight. She attempted to hide in a neighbouring thicket. But it was too late: one of the party had spied her. “Yeho!” he called gaily to his comrades. “What have we here?” And he pointed to where poor Ruth stood. In a moment he had ridden up beside her. “What do you here?” he asked in a harsh, gruff voice. “Drinking from the King’s own stream and eating berries and other fruits in the King’s own woods! Who gave you permission to wander here?” “No one gave me permission,” answered the frightened girl. “I did not know that I was in any King’s land. I am a poor Seeker, seeking for the Blue Bird and David. Have you seen either? Surely, if you have met them, you will tell me in which direction they were going? I did not know that I was taking that which belongs to another, and I am sorry with all my heart. Ask the King to pardon me. I will go on my way and will eat no more fruit nor drink more water till I am sure that I am beyond the great King’s border lands.” “Ask the King to pardon you, yourself,” answered the huntsman roughly. “For here he comes.” As he spoke he pointed toward an open meadow, across the smooth surface of which a man came riding on a great black horse. As he drew near, Ruth saw what a strange looking person he was. His face was round and full, and its colour was that of burnished bronze. His hair was of the colour of flame, and it grew in shaggy locks that hung about his neck like tongues of fire hanging upside down. His eyes were like burning live coals under thick, bushy eyebrows of a dull gray, like ashes after the fire has gone out of them. His voice when he spoke sounded like the roar of a blacksmith’s bellows. “Who is this girl?” he asked. Poor Ruth was frightened, but, summoning all her courage, she answered by telling him for whom she sought.