presently was fairly in the Dale and striding along the Portway
beside the northern cliffs, whose greyness was gilded yet by the last
rays of the sun, though in a minute or two it would go under the
western rim. He went fast and cheerily, murmuring to himself
snatches of old songs; none overtook him on the road, but he overtook
divers folk going alone or in company toward Burgstead; swains and
old men, mothers and maidens coming from the field and the acre, or
going from house to house; and one or two he met but not many. All
these greeted him kindly, and he them again; but he stayed not to
speak with any, but went as one in haste.

It was dusk by then he passed under the gate of Burgstead; he went
straight thence to the door of the House of the Face, and entered as
one who is at home, and need go no further, nor abide a bidding.

The hall he came into straight out of the open air was long and
somewhat narrow and not right high; it was well-nigh dark now within,
but since he knew where to look, he could see by the flicker that
leapt up now and then from the smouldering brands of the hearth
amidmost the hall under the luffer, that there were but three men
therein, and belike they were even they whom he looked to find there,
and for their part they looked for his coming, and knew his step.

He set down his venison on the floor, and cried out in a cheery
voice: 'Ho, Kettel! Are all men gone without doors to sleep so near
the winter-tide, that the Hall is as dark as a cave? Hither to me!
Or art thou also sleeping?'

A voice came from the further side of the hearth: 'Yea, lord, asleep
I am, and have been, and dreaming; and in my dream I dealt with the