passed through the dark avenues of the forest with neither doubt nor tremor.

But in an age when the meaning of nature's work was little understood,
when even religion was not yet strong enough to conquer the superstition
which found evil in things which were only mysteries, it was small
wonder that young Kenric of Bute should wish himself safely at home in
his father's castle, or regret that he had not gone back to the abbey of
St. Blane.

Nevertheless it was not alone the thought of trolls and elfins that
disturbed him. At that time the wild boar and the wolf were denizens of
the forest wherein he walked -- animals which would indeed be welcomed
in the daylight by a band of hunters with their spears and hounds, but
which might give some trouble to a youth appearing alone in their midst
on a dark night.

At one moment when he was deep within the heart of the forest he thought
he heard hurried footsteps behind him. He felt for his dirk and turned
round. The moon's beams pierced the trees and fell upon a glistening
pool of water where a wildcat was slaking its thirst. There was naught
else that might cause him alarm.

But in a little while he heard the same sound again -- this time in
advance of him. He stood still. In the shadow of a great bare rock he
saw two staring eyes that shone like gleaming fires, now green, now red,
and he knew that they were the eyes of a wolf. There was a low growl as
of distant thunder. Then the moon's light shot through a rack of cloud,
and he saw the form of the wolf standing out clear and black against the
grey rock. He fixed an arrow to his bowstring; but at the sound of the
creaking bow the wolf gave a sharp yelp and disappeared into the