ke nightjars, crying as they rode.

'I ran at their stirrups, but it was too late. We felt that the Boy
had touched Cold Iron somewhere in the dark, for the Horses of the Hill
shied off, and whipped round, snorting.

'Then I judged it was time for me to show myself in my own shape; so I
did.

'"Whatever it is," I said, "he has taken hold of it. Now we must find
out whatever it is that he has taken hold of, for that will be his
fortune."

'"Come here, Robin," the Boy shouted, as soon as he heard my voice. "I
don't know what I've hold of."

'"It is in your hands," I called back. "Tell us if it is hard and cold,
with jewels atop. For that will be a King's Sceptre."

'"Not by a furrow-long," he said, and stooped and tugged in the dark.
We heard him. '"Has it a handle and two cutting edges?" I called. "For
that'll be a Knight's Sword."

'"No, it hasn't," he says. "It's neither ploughshare, whittle, hook,
nor crook, nor aught I've yet seen men handle." By this time he was
scratting in the dirt to prise it up.

'"Whatever it is, you know who put it there, Robin," said Sir Huon to
me, "or you would not ask those questions. You should have told me as
soon as you knew."

'"What could you or I have done against the Smith that made it and laid
it for him to find?" I said, and I whispered Sir Huon what I had seen at
the Forge on Thor's Day, when the babe was first brought to the Hill.

'"Oh, good-bye, our dreams!" said Sir Huon. "It's neither sceptre,
sword, nor plough! Maybe yet it's a bookful of learning, bound with iron
clasps. There's a chance for a splendid fortune in that sometimes."

'But we knew we were only speaking to comfort ourselves, and the Lady
Esclairmonde, having been a woman, said so.

'"Thur aie! Thor help us!" the Boy called. "It is round, without end,
Cold Iron, four fingers wide and a thumb thick, and there is writing on
the breadth of it."

'"Read the writing if you have the learning," I called. The darkness had
lifted by then, and the owl was out over the fern again.

'He called back, reading the runes on the iron:

"Few can see
Further forth
Than when the child
Meets the Cold Iron."

And there he stood, in clear starlight, with a new, heavy, shining
slave-ring round his proud neck.

'"Is this how it goes?" he asked, while the Lady Esclairmonde cried.

'"That is how it goes," I said. He hadn't snapped the catch home yet,
though.

'"What fortune does it mean for him?" said Si