I waited. The time went by so slowly that it seemed an age. My heart beat off the seconds as though it were counting out the span of my life. My head was now in this direction, now in that, for the fear of a surprise was strong in my mind. Then a thought struck me. Perhaps he was more in need of me than I was of him. Maybe the man who shot the arrow was only a decoy to lead him into a trap. Could it be possible that he had been captured and killed while I was loitering there in idleness? My mind was running on with one thought chasing the other. My nerves were jumping like strings. I grasped the bow in my hand and began to run. I took the same course as the scrivener. With all my speed I leaped over roots of trees, rocks and what lay in my path. I covered twice the space that an arrow could fly. I went out of my course and made a wide circle through the woods. I wound in and about here and there so that finally I returned to the spot from which I had set out. Not a sound did I hear. Not a trace of a human being did I discover. It was as though I were standing in the emptiness of a desert. I sat down on a rock to think the matter over. The more I pondered, the deeper the mystery became. To add to my concern the sun was sending slanting rays from the west. By that I was sure that in another half hour it would be dark and in that sea of enemies I would have to shift for myself. I resolved that I would make one more search. I got to my feet with much misgiving and bent my steps once again through the woods. I had not gone ten paces when I came across a dark body huddled up against the root of a tree. It was in a spot where the shadows were thickest and I had to peer closely to observe it. Then I received a shock that went through me like the stab of a dagger, for there face down in the grass lay the scrivener. In the middle of his back stuck an arrow. He must have been dragged from the place where he was killed, for his shoes were gone and his coat was ripped and torn under the arm-pits, and the old hat which he wore was crushed down over his head as though his murderer had flattened it. With a gulp in my throat as big as an apple I stooped and shook him by the arm. He was stone dead for he moved with the heaviness of a log. Then I arose and took my hat in my hands to mutter a prayer. In the next second a hand as hard as iron and as strong as a vise was laid on my shoulder. I turned my head. In the growing darkness I looked into a face that was frowning as black as night. The fellow was of about the same size as myself. He had on a coat and trousers such as the soldiers wear only they were threadbare and very ragged. A rough cap was pulled down over his eyes and a loose scarf was wound about his throat and came up over his chin. As he grinned at me I remember that a pair of silver ear-rings shook menacingly from his ears.