"Nay, but do not you know by this time, that those who they attack are very often the last to perceive their presence." "Well," said Amer, "I do not know after all, even if what you say is true, why I should be so surprised. They generally attack the bravest soldiers of the King." The man looked at him sadly. "Disappoint not our King," he urged. "He has done so much for you in saving you when in such peril; I pray you to keep humble, and to remember that you owe all your safety to Him and not to your own prowess." "You speak truly," said Amer, in a somewhat superior tone of voice. "No one knows better than I, that great truth; but I think perhaps you forget that it may dishonour the King as much to deny what He has done for you—the courage He has given you, the wisdom He has imparted to you—as to speak too much of it." The man who was old enough to be Amer's grandfather did not resent the sermon that had been delivered with a certain amount of conceit. But he was silent for a moment. Then looking quietly with his clear penetrating eyes at his companion, he said slowly, "'Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall,'" and with the words he left Amer and followed his own path which at that moment led away from that of the other pilgrims. Amer looked after him with mingled feelings of vexation and respect. Then remembering the words just spoken, turned him about to see if he could detect any signs of his enemies. But they had carefully hidden themselves. His sober reveries were disturbed by the voice of one of the pilgrims. "We are thankful that our path leads us the same way as yours for a time, as we feel we have the advantage of your company. You have had so much more experience than we have that we know we shall be safe following your example and advice. No doubt you will be able to point out dangers in the road and will be the first to detect the presence of the enemy." The words which would have filled Amer with pleasure a few moments before, had now rather the opposite effect, because of the conversation which had so lately taken place. "Nay friend," he answered in a depressed tone of voice, "I do not see that my example is worth much, neither am I capable of giving you any better advice than others." "It is only your humility that makes you say this," answered his companion. "I have always known that the bravest, noblest, most courageous of the King's servants are the most humble;" and at these words the other pilgrims, Belthiah and Iddo among them, drew near, and asked him for his experiences and for instruction.