dded he, loosing the dead birds from his girdle, "take me
these grouse to the abbey, and tell the good abbot that I come not to
St. Blane's this night, but that I go home to the castle to see who
these strangers may be, and to learn their purpose."
But as Lulach was taking the game into his hands, he drew back and
pointed with trembling finger to the green path that led towards Rothesay.
"See!" he exclaimed, "there is ill luck before you! Turn back, my
master, turn back!"
"Ah! a magpie, and alone!" cried Kenric, seeing the bird in his path.
"That is ill luck indeed! Give me some salt from your wallet, Lulach,
for if this sign reads true then it were unwise in me to go farther
without some salt in my pocket."
"Alas!" said Lulach, "I have none. My wallet is empty!"
"Then God be my protection!" said Kenric, and with that he went on his
way, feeling a dread foreboding at his heart.
The light of day had faded from the sky as he passed by the black waters
of Loch Dhu; but there was a silvery glare above the jagged peaks of the
Arran fells, and he knew that the moon was rising, and that he would
soon have her friendly light to guide him through the dark pine forest
of Barone.
All was calm and still, but through the stillness the hollow sound of a
waterfall among the far-off mountains came to him like the moaning cry
of a dying man. At that sound he felt his heart beating uneasily against
his side, for that same cry, which rises from all mountain streams
towards nightfall, was beforetime held to be of ill omen when heard from
a distance, and Kenric was in a likely mood to be impressed by such a sign.
When he came to the borders of the forest he was almost afraid to
venture among the gloomy shadows of the trees. Therein, as he believed,
dwelt many strange and mysterious elves, that were wont to lead
travellers astray to their destruction. But he must pass through that
forest or else go round many miles across the hills; so he braced his
girdle tighter about him and boldly plunged into the darkness. As he
went forth the plaintive cry of the curlew high up above the treetops
startled him more than once, and the sudden movement of every wild beast
and bird that his own footsteps had frightened filled him with new fears.
In the broad daylight neither man nor beast could have had power to
daunt him. He was, when put to his mettle, one of the most courageous
and daring youths in the island, and, saving only his elder
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