“That’s one of them,” muttered my companion. He pointed to the man whom I had felled. He was rolling over and trying to raise himself on his elbow. “He’s safe enough where he lies,” he continued. “By the time he has his wits again, we shall be out of reach.” “Where are we going now, master scrivener?” I asked. “I’m not sure, my lad,” he said. He pointed to the sun which stood over our heads. “First we’ll eat what is left of our breakfast. We’ll go ahead slowly for a while. When it gets dark I shall make a quiet visit to the inn.” 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.” The scrivener made no answer but laid a bundle on the ground, which he spread out with the greatest care. In the light of the moon I saw him quietly smiling to himself. “I’ve brought enough for a week,” he said, “cheese and bread and smoked meat. While they are running mad in search of us, we can live like kings.” With all my fears, I was as hungry as a bear. The two of us sat down upon the hard ground with a flat stone for a table. We ate in silence, for each of us was busy with his own thoughts. Now and then I caught the scrivener glancing up at me through his brows with that quaint smile on his face, as though he was secretly amused. “I can go with you until we come into the country of the Abbot of Chalonnes,” he said suddenly. “After that it will be for you to shift for yourself.” “Scrivener,” said I, “who is this Abbot of Chalonnes?” “He’s a strong man, Henri,” came the answer. “A man to be feared.” “But what is his importance?” I demanded. “Has he an army? Does he rule a part of France? Or is he only a churchman?”