ches! They prove that, however it befell, we must date the
inundation some centuries earlier. Now if my story be true--But let it
be told:

* * * * *

In the year of the great tide Graul, son of Graul, was king in the
Lyonnesse. He lived at peace in his city of Maenseyth, hard by
the Sulleh, where the foreign traders brought their ships to
anchor--sometimes from Tyre itself, oftener from the Tyrian colonies
down the Spanish coast; and he ruled over a peaceful nation of
tinners, herdsmen, and charcoal-burners. The charcoal came from the
great forest to the eastward where Cara Clowz in Cowz, the gray rock
in the wood, overlooked the Cornish frontier; his cattle pastured
nearer, in the plains about the foot of the Wolves' Cairn; and his
tinners camped and washed the ore in the valley-bottoms--for in those
days they had no need to dig into the earth for metal, but found
plenty by puddling in the river-beds.

So King Graul ruled happily over a happy people until the dark morning
when a horseman came galloping to the palace of Maenseyth with a cry
that the tide had broken through Crebawethan and was sweeping north
and west upon the land, drowning all in its path. "Hark!" said he,
"already you may hear the roar of it by Bryher!"

Yann, the King's body-servant, ran at once to the stables and brought
three horses--one for Queen Niotte; one for her only child, the
Princess Gwennolar; and for King Graul the red stallion, Rubh,
swiftest and strongest in the royal stalls, one of the Five Wonders
of Lyonnesse. More than six leagues lay between them and the Wolves'
Cairn, which surely the waters could never cover; and toward it the
three rode at a stretch gallop, King Graul only tightening his hand
on the bridle as Rubh strained to outpace the others. As he rode he
called warnings to the herdsmen and tinners who already had heard the
far roar of waters and were fleeing to the hills. The cattle raced
ahead of him, around him, beside him; he passed troop after troop; and
among them, in fellowship, galloped foxes, badgers, hares, rabbits,
weasels; even small field-mice were skurrying and entangling
themselves in the long grasses, and toppling head over heels in their
frenzy to escape.

But before they reached the Wolves' Cairn the three riders were alone
again. Rubh alone carried his master lightly, and poised his head to
sniff the wind. The other two leaned on their bridles and lagged after
him, and