he moved on promptly.
The night came on, chilly and overcast; and still the footsore
monarch laboured slowly on. He was obliged to keep moving, for
every time he sat down to rest he was soon penetrated to the bone
with the cold. All his sensations and experiences, as he moved
through the solemn gloom and the empty vastness of the night, were
new and strange to him. At intervals he heard voices approach,
pass by, and fade into silence; and as he saw nothing more of the
bodies they belonged to than a sort of formless drifting blur,
there was something spectral and uncanny about it all that made
him shudder. Occasionally he caught the twinkle of a light–
always far away, apparently–almost in another world; if he heard
the tinkle of a sheep’s bell, it was vague, distant, indistinct;
the muffled lowing of the herds floated to him on the night wind
in vanishing cadences, a mournful sound; now and then came the
complaining howl of a dog over viewless expanses of field and
forest; all sounds were remote; they made the little King feel
that all life and activity were far removed from him, and that he
stood solitary, companionless, in the centre of a measureless
solitude.
He stumbled along, through the gruesome fascinations of this new
experience, startled occasionally by the soft rustling of the dry
leaves overhead, so like human whispers they seemed to sound; and
by-and-by he came suddenly upon the freckled light of a tin
lantern near at hand. He stepped back into the shadows and
waited. The lantern stood by the open door of a barn. The King
waited some time–there was no sound, and nobody stirring. He got
so cold, standing still, and the hospitable barn looked so
enticing, that at last he resolved to risk everything and enter.
He started swiftly and stealthily, and just as he was crossing the
threshold he heard voices behind him. He darted behind a cask,
within the barn, and stooped down. Two farm-labourers came in,
bringing the lantern with them, and fell to work, talking
meanwhile. Whilst they moved about with the light, the King made
good use of his eyes and took the bearings of what seemed to be a
good-sized stall at the further end of the place, purposing to
grope his way to it when he should be left to himself. He also
noted the position of a pile of horse blankets, midway of the
route, with the intent to levy upon them for the service of the
crown of England for one night.
By-and-by the men finished and went away, fastening the door
behind them and taking the lantern with them. The shivering King
made for the blankets, with as good speed as the darkness would
allow; gathered them up, and then groped his way safely to the
stall. Of two of the blankets he made a bed, then covered himself
with the remaining two. He was a glad monarch, now, though the
blankets were old and thin, and not quite warm enough; and besides
gave out a pungent horsey odour that was almost suffocatingly
powerful.
Although the King was hungry and chilly, he was also so tired and
so drowsy that these latter influences soon began to get the
advantage of the former, and he presently dozed off into a state
of semi-consciousness. Then, just as he was on the point of
losing himself wholly, he distinctly felt something touch him! He
was broad awake in a moment, and gasping for breath. The cold
horror of that mysterious touch in the dark almost made his heart
stand still. He lay motionless, and listened, scarcely breathing.
But nothing stirred, and there was no sound. He continued to
listen, and wait, during what seemed a long time, but still
nothing stirred, and there was no sound. So he began to drop into
a drowse once more, at last; and all at once he felt that
mysterious touch again! It was a grisly thing, this light touch
from this noiseless and invisible presence; it made the boy sick
with ghostly fears. What should he do? That was the question;
but he did not know how to answer it. Should he leave these