In another half hour the country to the sides of the road became more and more barren. What trees there were grew far apart and were hardly more than ragged stumps. Rocks abounded everywhere—boulders of all sizes, some as big as houses, others smaller, of every shape and form. We had just turned a bend in the road. With no word of warning the man riding next to the captain threw his hands in the air. He uttered a short sobbing cry. His mouth fell agape and, although he struggled, he swung over to one side and toppled like a log from his horse. To the terror of the rest there in his chest stuck an arrow longer than your arm pointing upwards to the sky. We turned instinctively to the road and the archers unslung their bows. No Dwarf appeared, but from in among the rocks there came to us a shrill penetrating laugh that echoed far and near and sent the shivers up and down my captors’ spines. “That’s the first!” It was a cry like a prolonged wail. “Which of you will be the next?” The men dismounted as they did before. They searched every speck of ground from the edge of the road far back to the ridge of the hill. They returned once again disappointed with doubt and anxiety impressed on their faces. From then on we proceeded with utmost caution. The eyes of the men roved continually over the sides of the road. The archers sat with their bows slung across their saddles. Now and then, even when there was no sign of danger, a few of them dismounted and scoured among the rocks and rugged ground to either side of us. For a quarter of an hour we went along peacefully enough. Then a white streak cut the air. The arrow did not come straight, but curved upwards in a long smooth arch. It struck point downward in the middle of the road where it trembled a little and then remained perfectly still. Every man in that company reined in his horse. The archers raised their bows. They searched with their eyes every nook in the rocks where a man could have hidden. Not a sound came to us. Not a motion did we see. As far as appearances went the missile might have dropped from the sky. One of the men rode on ahead and slid from his horse. He stooped to pick up the arrow. As his hand was about to touch the shaft, another arrow darted through the air like a flash of light. It cut the first in two, splitting it as cleanly as you would with a sharp knife. The man jumped back with his face the color of chalk and got once more upon his horse. Our enemies were by this time thoroughly alarmed. There was no dismounting to hunt among the rocks. Fear was in every face and their nerves were keyed up as though they had been lashed with whips. A bird flying across the road or a dry leaf blown by the breeze would have started every one of them in his saddle.