he reined
up, and slewing himself about in his saddle addressed Stephanu again.

"As I remember, there is a track below which branches off to the
right, towards Nonza. It will take us wide of Olmeta and we can
strike down into the lowland somewhere between the two. The Princess
commands us to make for the north; so we shall be obeying her, and at
the same time we can bivouac close enough to take stock at sunrise
and, maybe, learn some news of the camp--yet not so close that our
horses can be heard, if by chance one should whinny."

"As to that you may rest easy," Stephanu assured him. "It is known
that many of the farms below keep ponies in stable."

From the pass we looked straight down upon another sea, starlit and
dimly discernible, and upon slopes and mountain spurs descending into
dense woodland over which, along the bluffs of the ridge, the lights
of a few lonely hill-farms twinkled. Stephanu found for us the track
of which Marc'antonio had spoken, and although on this side of the
range the shadows of the crags made an almost total darkness, our
ponies took us down at a fair pace. After thirty, or it may be
forty, minutes of this jolting and (to me) entirely haphazard
progress, Marc'antonio again reined up, on the edge of a
mountain-stream which roared across our path so loudly as to drown
his instructions. But at a sign from him Stephanu stepped back and
took my bridle, and within a couple of minutes I felt that my pony's
feet were treading good turf and, at a cry from my guide, ducked my
head to avoid the boughs as we threaded our way down through an
orchard of stalwart olives.

The slope grew gentler as we descended, and eased almost to a level
on the verge of a high road running north and south under the glimmer
of the moon--or rather of the pale light heralding the moon's advent.
Marc'antonio looked about him and climbed heavily from his saddle.
He had been riding since dawn.

I followed his example, though with difficulty--so stiff were my
limbs; picketed my pony; and, having unstrapped the blanket from my
saddle-bow, wrapped it about me and stretched myself on the thin turf
to munch the ration of crust which Marc'antonio doled out from his
bag; for he carried our provender.

"Never grudge a hard day's work when 'tis over," said he, as he
passed me the wine-skin. "Yonder side of the mountain breeds malaria
even in winter, but on this side a man may sleep and rise fit for
adventure."

He offe