eaten, Martin slept. I sat watching the beauty of the skies
and of the shadowy vale. I heard no one approach--but
something made me leap to my feet, look behind me.

"A man was standing just within the glow of firelight,
watching me."

"A Tibetan?" I asked. She shook her head, trouble in
her eyes.

"Not at all." Ventnor turned his head. "Ruth screamed
and awakened me. I caught a glimpse of the fellow before
he vanished.

"A short purple mantle hung from his shoulders. His
chest was covered with fine chain mail. His legs were
swathed and bound by the thongs of his high buskins.
He carried a small, round, hide-covered shield and a short
two-edged sword. His head was helmeted. He belonged, in
fact--oh, at least twenty centuries back."

He laughed in plain enjoyment of our amazement.

"Go on, Ruth," he said, and took up his watch.

"But Martin did not see his face," she went on. "And
oh, but I wish I could forget it. It was as white as mine,
Walter, and cruel, so cruel; the eyes glowed and they
looked upon me like a--like a slave dealer. They shamed
me--I wanted to hide myself.