running down the valley--it turned the two mill-wheels, Vellandruchar
and Vellandreath, with blood that night. Even at daybreak it ran
high over the legs of the choughs walking on the beach below--that is
why the choughs go red-legged to this day. . . . They are few now,
but then they were many: and next spring they came and built in the
rigging of the Danes' ships, left ashore--for not a Dane had escaped.
But King Arthur had gone his way. Ah, he was a man!"

"Nevertheless," struck in the wren, "this is a good fellow too; and a
smith, whose trade is as old as your King Arthur's. We will prosper
him in it."

"What will you give him?" asked the titlark.

"He is lying at this moment on the trefoil that commands all metals.
Let him look to his gun when he awakes."

"Ah!" said the titlark, "I told you that secret. I was with Teague
the Smith when he discovered it. . . . But he discovered it too late;
and, besides, he was a dreamer, and used it only to make crosses and
charms and womanish ornaments."

"It's no use to _us_, anyhow," said the practical wren. "So let us
give it away. I hate waste."

"I doubt," said the titlark, "it will be much profit to him,
wonderful though it is."

"Well," said the wren, "a present's a present. Folks with a living
to get must give what they can afford."