That much was over, thanks to the Dwarf. The two of us lowered our bodies again lest an arrow take us unawares. I risked a peep out through one of the crevices. I had every thought that another band of assailants would be on us to take vengeance for the damage we had done their companions. To my surprise the woods were as still for a time as a peaceful countryside. Then, after a little, far off, I heard the screech of the Dwarf coming to us like an echo through the trees. When it died away a silence fell over us once more. I was beginning to count the victory ours, for I was sure that the Dwarf with his arrows, his terrible arms and hands had done their work. Single-handed he had driven our enemies from the neighborhood. The sun was casting slanting rays out of the west. A new thought rose in my mind. The night would be dark, for there was no space for the shining of the stars through the matted branches of the trees. We would stand guard, of course, ready to ward off an attack. But in case our enemies returned it would be difficult to see them as clearly as we had done during the afternoon. They could storm our little stronghold. By sheer numbers they could overwhelm us. Before we could raise a bow in our defense they could slaughter us where we cowered behind our stone-wall. This thought grew stronger in my mind as the darkness came on. I spoke to Charles, who only nodded his head. “If they come,” he said, after turning the matter over, “we must leave. The woods will be safer than it is here.” To this we agreed. We kept our eyes on the alert, searching in every direction for a foe. The sun had dropped behind the horizon and the shadows of night were stretching themselves like black sheets on every side of us. The woods were silent and mysterious. Not a sound came to our ears except the twittering of a bird or two as he settled in his nest. The shrieking of the Dwarf had long since stopped. “We must wait till he returns,” said Charles. “We cannot go without a word from him. He will——” We both jumped to our feet. There was a rustling of the branches over our heads. The Dwarf dropped lightly to the ground and stood facing us in the gathering gloom. His mouth was spread open in a wide grin that showed his big pointed teeth. “There’s no fear, now,” he said. “I’ve scattered them. Come into my cave. We must eat.” He led the way. The fire had gone out. He relit it with a piece of tinder and dry wood. When the blaze had started up he drew from out the folds of his shirt a dagger and cast it at my feet. It was the dagger which I had from the scrivener, the one which I was to take to the Abbot of Chalonnes—which I thought I had lost forever in the Loire.