different. The passion of it was on you as it was on us, as if to teach
us that hunger for happiness is robbery, and that the covetous desire of
man is not the will of the gods. The herds are for the Mighty Men when
they awake, not for the stranger and the Philistine."

"You have grown wise, Hester," he replied.

"No, I am sick in brain and body; but it may be that in such sickness
there is wisdom."

"Ah," he said, "it has turned my head, I think. Once I laughed at all
such fanciful things as these. This Scarlet Hunter, how many times have
you seen him?"

"But once."

"What were his looks?"

"A face pale and strong, with noble eyes; and in his voice there was
something strange."

Trafford thought of Shangi, the Indian,--where had he gone? He had
disappeared as suddenly as he had come to their camp in the South.

As they sat silent in the growing night, the door opened and the Scarlet
Hunter stood before them. "There is food," he said, "on the threshold--
food for those who go upon a far journey to the South in the morning.
Unhappy are they who seek for gold at the rainbow's foot, who chase the
fire-fly in the night, who follow the herds in the White Valley. Wise
are they who anger not the gods, and who fly before the rising storm.