“Serious!” he exclaimed. “Do you think a man ought not to plan? Why, lad, I’m scheming as hard as I can to pull you out of this difficulty.” “—me!” I cried. He shot a look at me. “Do you think I care for myself?” he answered. “Why, lad, if I were alone, I would be on my way by this and as free as a bird in the air.” I considered for a moment. “Why have you stuck to me at all, master scrivener?” I asked slyly. “Is there a purpose to it?” He examined me suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. He rolled his forehead upwards and set his mouth to whistle a tune. I realized that he was going to evade my question as he did before. “Scrivener,” I began deliberately, “why don’t you lay aside the mask? You know you are leading me as you would a dog upon a string. Can’t you be frank enough to tell me why?” At these words he leaped in the air. He let out one long breath of surprise and threw his arms towards the sky. “Listen to him, will you!” he cried as though he were speaking with some one invisible. “Harken to his nonsense! Has there ever been——” He stopped as suddenly as he began. His arms dropped to his side. He put his finger over his mouth to caution me to silence and gazed intently far over my shoulder. Then he backed away towards the trunk of the nearest tree. “Pist!” he exclaimed under his breath. “Don’t move!” I had no time to judge whether it was one of his pranks or not, whether it was an attempt to turn a conversation that was distasteful to him. A click at my feet threw a cloud of dust in my face and sprinkled me with a shower of small stones. I looked and there standing before me was an arrow a yard long with its point buried deep in the earth. In spite of the warning I jumped up. At the same time another arrow sped past me so near and with such speed that I felt the breeze fan my cheeks. I made a leap to get within the protection of a tree when I glanced to the side and saw the scrivener lay an arrow in his bow. The string gave a twang. He followed the missile with his eyes. A slow pleased smile spread over his countenance and he turned to me. “He has shot his last shot,” he said. “Do you know who it was?” I asked. “Stay where you are,” he cautioned, “If you are threatened, run for it as fast as you can.” He disappeared among the trees. As for me, I had not seen the man who sent the arrow at all, nor was I even able to figure the exact place from which it had come. I took my bow in my hands to have it ready. I listened with all my ears for the slightest sound. I kept turning this way and that. Minute after minute passed in the utter silence of those woods. I expected the scrivener to return at almost any second. I took to pacing up and down. A nervousness stirred within me for I was growing conscious that I was next to helpless against the odds that surrounded me. Where had the scrivener gone and what was detaining him?