The girl told them how the men went hunting with flint spears and arrows, and how they made boats with reeds and clay. Then she explained the reed thing in the river that she had taken the fish out of. It was a fish-trap—just a ring of reeds set up in the water with only one little opening in it, and in this opening, just below the water, were stuck reeds slanting the way of the river’s flow, so that the fish, when they had swum sillily in, sillily couldn’t get out again. She showed them the clay pots and jars and platters, some of them ornamented with black and red patterns, and the most wonderful things made of flint and different sorts of stone, beads, and ornaments, and tools and weapons of all sorts and kinds. “It is really wonderful,” said Cyril patronizingly, “when you consider that it’s all eight thousand years ago—” “I don’t understand you,” said the girl. “It _isn’t_ eight thousand years ago,” whispered Jane. “It’s _now_—and that’s just what I don’t like about it. I say, _do_ let’s get home again before anything more happens. You can see for yourselves the charm isn’t here.” “What’s in that place in the middle?” asked Anthea, struck by a sudden thought, and pointing to the fence. “That’s the secret sacred place,” said the girl in a whisper. “No one knows what is there. There are many walls, and inside the insidest one _It_ is, but no one knows what _It_ is except the headsmen.” “I believe _you_ know,” said Cyril, looking at her very hard. “I’ll give you this if you’ll tell me,” said Anthea taking off a bead-ring which had already been much admired. “Yes,” said the girl, catching eagerly at the ring. “My father is one of the heads, and I know a water charm to make him talk in his sleep. And he has spoken. I will tell you. But if they know I have told you they will kill me. In the insidest inside there is a stone box, and in it there is the Amulet. None knows whence it came. It came from very far away.” “Have you seen it?” asked Anthea. The girl nodded. “Is it anything like this?” asked Jane, rashly producing the charm. The girl’s face turned a sickly greenish-white. “Hide it, hide it,” she whispered. “You must put it back. If they see it they will kill us all. You for taking it, and me for knowing that there was such a thing. Oh, woe—woe! why did you ever come here?” “Don’t be frightened,” said Cyril. “They shan’t know. Jane, don’t you be such a little jack-ape again—that’s all. You see what will happen if you do. Now, tell me—” He turned to the girl, but before he had time to speak the question there was a loud shout, and a man bounded in through the opening in the thorn-hedge. “Many foes are upon us!” he cried. “Make ready the defences!” His breath only served for that, and he lay panting on the ground. “Oh, _do_ let’s go home!” said Jane. “Look here—I don’t care—I _will!_” She held up the charm. Fortunately all the strange, fair people were too busy to notice _her_. She held up the charm. And nothing happened.