rious sight to see his straggling attendants, spread out through
the silver vistas of the beeches, like earnest trolls, all in one way or
another bent upon a common end. And I suppose it was on account of this
trick of The Maimed Man that one afternoon, toward dusk, he found
himself almost completely alone, save for myself, who managed somehow to
keep step, and a silent huntsman in gray who strode on ahead with the
quiet, alert step of a wild animal.

"It was very still. There was no breeze at all. Not a sound except the
sound of the dead leaves beneath our feet; and The Maimed Man was not,
as was his usual wont, talking. Indeed, he seemed very preoccupied,
almost morosely so. Every now and then he cut with his stick at a bush
or a yellowed fern as he passed. Presently the trees opened upon a
little glade swimming in sunlight. And then there was a brook to cross,
and beyond that a gentle slope before the trees began again. The
sunlight was pleasantly warm after the coolness of the forest, and the
slope, with its soft dried grass, seemed an inviting place to rest. The
Maimed Man continued until he had reached the farther belt of trees, and
then he turned about and faced the sinking sun, that by now was changing
itself into a nebulous radiance on the horizon. The forest stretched in
gentle billows as far as the eye could see.

"'We will stop here,' said The Maimed Man, 'until the others catch up.
Lazy-bones! If they had one-half the work to do that my poorest man has
to the south they would not lose their legs so readily.' Then he sat
down and lit a cigarette. I sat beside him. Farther up on the slope, in
the shadow of the trees, sat the huntsman. We waited. The sun burned
away its quivering aura and began to sink blood-red below the hills.
Long shadows fell, penetrated with the dancing flecks of twilight.

"'Here they come!' said The Maimed Man suddenly. 'I see gray moving.
There--below there, amongst the trees!' He pointed with his cane. Far
back in the secret aisles of the forest across the brook there did
indeed seem to be a movement. The Maimed Man half arose to his feet. 'I
will shame them, the lazy-bones,' he said, and then he sat down again,
with an odd, soft collapse.

"For, you see, it was very still, as I have said. Not a trace of wind.
The forest seemed to be slumbering. And yet there had come out of it,
and across the open place, and up the slope, so that it touched the hair
and chilled the cheek, somethin