fire-watcher raised his sad countenance and
peered through his hair at Nod.

"What is it in your mouldy cheese, Man of the Mountains, that has
poisoned my brother?" said Nod.

The Mulgar shook his head. "Maybe it is something in the Mulla-mulgar,"
he answered. "It is very good cheese."

"Will morning soon be here?" said Nod, gazing into the fire.

The Mulgar smiled. "When night is gone," he answered.

"Why do these mountain-wolves fear fire?" asked Nod.

The Mulgar shook his head. "Questions, royal traveller, are easier than
answers," he said. "They _do_."

He caught up a firebrand, and threw it with all his strength beyond the
fire. It fell sputtering on the ledge, and instantly there rose such a
yelping and snarling the chasm re-echoed. Yet so brave are these
snow-wolves one presently came venturing pitapat, pitapat, along the
frosty gallery, and very warily, with the tip of his paw, poked and
pushed at it until the burning stick toppled and fell over, down, down,
down, down, till, a gliding spark, it vanished into the torrent below.
The Mountain-mulgar looked back over his shoulder at Nod, but said
nothing.

Nod's eyes went wandering from head to head of the shadowy pack. "Is it
far now to my uncle, Prince Assasimmon's? Is it far to the Valleys?" he
said in a while.

"Only to the other side of death," said the watchman. "Come
N[=o][=o]manossi, we shall walk no more."

"Do you mean, O Man of the Mountains," said Nod, catching his breath,
"that we shall never, never get there alive?" The watchman hobbled over
and threw an armful of wood on to the fire.

"'Never' shares a big bed with 'Once,' Mulla-mulgar," he said, raking
the embers together with a long forked stick. "But we have no Magic."

Nod stared. Should he tell this dull Man of the Mountains to think no
more of death, seeing that _he_, Ummanodda himself, had magic? Should he
let him dazzle his eyes one little moment with his Wonderstone? He
fumbled in the pocket of his sheep-skin coat, stopped, fumbled again.
His hair rose stiff on his scalp. He shivered, and then grew burning
hot. He searched and searched again. The Mulgar eyed him sorrowfully.
"What ails you, O nephew of a great King?" he said in his faint, high
voice. "Fleas?"

Nod stared at him with flaming eyes. He could not think nor speak. His
Wonderstone was gone. He turned, dropped on his fours, sidled
noiselessly back to Thimble's litter, and sat down.

How had he lost it? When? Wher