d on the beds were laid clean linen
garments and dark-coloured hooded robes, lined with rich fur. Also upon
a little table were ointments, bandages, and splints, a marvellous thing
to see, for it told me that the very nature of my hurt had been divined.
But I asked no more questions; I was too weary; moreover, I knew that it
would be useless.

Now the priest Oros helped me to remove my tattered robe, and, undoing
the rough bandages upon my arm, washed it gently with warm water, in
which he mixed some spirit, and examined it with the skill of a trained
doctor.

"The fangs rent deep," he said, "and the small bone is broken, but you
will take no harm, save for the scars which must remain." Then, having
treated the wounds with ointment, he wrapped the limb with such a
delicate touch that it scarcely pained me, saying that by the morrow
the swelling would have gone down and he would set the bone. This indeed
happened.

After it was done he helped me to wash and to clothe myself in the clean
garments, and put a sling about my neck to serve as a rest for my arm.
Meanwhile Leo had also dressed himself, so that we left the chamber
together very different men to the foul, blood-stained wanderers who had
entered there. In the outer room we found food prepared for us, of which
we ate with a thankful heart and without speaking. Then, blind with
weariness, we returned to the other chamber and, having removed our
outer garments, flung ourselves upon the beds and were soon plunged in
sleep.

At some time in the night I awoke suddenly, at what hour I do not know,
as certain people wake, I among them, when their room is entered, even
without the slightest noise. Before I opened my eyes I felt that some
one was with us in the place. Nor was I mistaken. A little lamp still
burned in the chamber, a mere wick floating in oil, and by its light
I saw a dim, ghost-like form standing near the door. Indeed I thought
almost that it was a ghost, till presently I remembered, and knew it for
our corpse-like guide, who appeared to be looking intently at the bed on
which Leo lay, or so I thought, for the head was bent in that direction.

At first she was quite still, then she moaned aloud, a low and terrible
moan, which seemed to well from the very heart.

So the thing was not dumb, as I had believed. Evidently it could suffer,
and express its suffering in a human fashion. Look! it was wringing its
padded hands as in an excess of woe. Now it wou