late touch the Wan river, whereon stood the Abbey and his bed. What to
do with the girl when he got there? That puzzled him. "A well-ordered
abbey," he thought, "has no place for a girl, and one ill-ordered has
too many. In the first case, therefore, Holy Thorn would leave her at
the gate, and in the second, that is where I myself would let her
stay. So it seems that she must needs have a wet skin." He felt
carefully about the sleeping child; the cloak kept her dry and warm as
a toast. She was sound asleep. "Good Lord!" cried Prosper, "it's a
pity to disturb this baby of mine. Saracen and I had better souse.
Moreover, I make no nearer, by all that appears, to river Wan or Holy
Thorn. Come up, horse; keep us moving."

The stream he had followed he now had lost. It was pitchy dark, with a
most villainous storm of rain and wind. Saracen caught the infection
of his master's doubts; he stopped short, and bowed his head to snuff
the ground. Prosper laughed at the plight they were both in, and
looked about him, considering what he should do. Very far off he could
see a feeble light flickering; it was the only speck of brightness
within his vision, and he judged it too steady for a fen-flame.
Lodging of some sort should be there, for where there is a candle
there is a candlestick. This was not firelight. To it he turned his
tired beast, and found that he had been well advised. He was before a
mud-walled hovel; there through the horn he saw the candle-flame. He
drew his sword and beat upon the door. For answer the light was blown
swiftly out, and the darkness swam about him like ink.

"Scared folk!" he laughed to himself, hammering at the door with a
will.

Then Isoult stirred on his arm and awoke with a little whimper, half