ew voice, a great voice that seemed to fill
the air like the mutter of distant thunder. "I am Murgh, Gateway of the
Gods, and since you have striven to defend Murgh, he who is the friend
of all men, although they know it not, will above all be your friend and
the friend of those you love."

He stretched out his long arms and laid his white-gloved hands for an
instant, one of them upon Hugh's head and one on the shoulder of Grey
Dick, who sat upon the pillar of stone.

Hugh muttered, "I thank you," not knowing what else to say. But in his
heart he wondered what kind of friendship this mighty and awful being
would show to him and his. Perhaps he might hold that the truest
kindness would be to remove him and them from the miseries of a sinful
world.

If Murgh read his thoughts he only answered them with that smile of his
cold eyes which was more awful than the frown of any mortal man. Turning
his head slowly he began to contemplate Dick sitting on his stone.

"If I had a son," he said, "by that face of yours you might be he."

"Perchance," answered Dick, "since I never knew for certain who my
father was. Only I have always heard that Life begets, not Death."

"Death! You honour me with a great name. Well, life and death are one,
and you and I are one with the moon and the stars above us, and many
other things and beings that you cannot see. Therefore the begetter and
the begotten are one in the Hand that holds them all."

"Ay," answered Dick, "and so my bow and I are one: I've often thought
it. Only you nearly made me one with my own arrow, which is closer
kinship than I seek," and he touched the cut upon his chin. "Since you
are so wise, my father, or my son, tell me, what is this Hand that holds
them all?"

"Gladly. Only if I do, first I must ask you to die, then--say in a
minute or two--you shall know."

Dick peered at him doubtfully, and said:

"If that be so, I think I'll wait for the answer, which I am sure to
learn soon or late."

"Ah! Many men have thought the same, and you have sent some to seek it,
have you not, being so good an archer. For instance, that was a long
shaft you shot before Crecy fray at the filthy fool who mocked your
English host. Doubtless now he knows the answer to your riddle."

"Who told you of that?" asked Dick, springing up.

"A friend of mine who was in the battle. He said also that your name was
Richard the Archer."

"A friend! I believe that you were there yourself, as, i