All at once the Little Playmate, who was riding immediately before me, screamed out sharp and shrill, and I hastened up to her, thinking she had fallen upon a misfortune.  I found her palfrey with ears pricked and distended nostril, gazing at a head in a red nightcap which was set out of a hole in the red clay.

“The country of gnomes!  Of a surety, yes!  And hitherto I had thought it had been but the nonsense of folk-tales!” said I to myself.

Which is what we shall say one day of more things than red-nightcapped heads.

But the Little Playmate uttered scream after scream, for the head continued coolly to stare at her, as if fixed alive over the gateway by the craft of some cave-dwelling imp of the Red Axe.

I noticed, however, that the head chewed a straw and spat, which I deemed a gnome would not do—­though wherefore straws and spitting are not free to gnomes I do not know and could not have told.  Yet, at all events, such was my belief.  And a serviceable one enough it was, since it took the fear out of me and gave me back my speech.  And when a man can speak he can fight.  Contrariwise, it is when a woman will not fight that she can talk best, as one may see in any congress of two angry vixens.  So long as they rail there is but threatening and safe recriminations, but when one waxes silent, then ’ware nails and teeth!  And I am not in my dotage to use such illustrations—­as not unnaturally sayeth the first to read my history.

“Good man,” cried I, to Sir Red Cap in the wall, “I know not why you stick your ugly head out of the mud, but retract it, I pray you!  For do you not see that it alarms the lady and affrights her beast?”

The man nodded intelligently, but went on coolly chewing his straw.

Then I went up to him, and, as civilly as I could, took him by the chin and thrust his head back into the hole.  And as I did so I saw for the first time that the wall of the clay cliff, tough and gritty with its alloy of lime, had been cut and hewn into houses and huts having doors of wood of exactly the same color, and in some cases even windows with bars—­very marvellous to see, and such as I have never witnessed elsewhere.  Presently, at the trampling of the feet of so many horses, people began to throng to their doors, and children peered out at windows and cried to each other shrilly:  “See the Christians!”

For so, being but lately pagans themselves, if not partly so to this day, these outlandish men of the border No Man’s Land denominated us of the south.

Presently we came to an open space sloping away from the sheer cliff, where was a wall and a door greater than the others.

Jorian rode directly up to the gate, which was of the same dull brick-red as the rest of the curious town.  He took the butt of his lance and thumped and banged lustily upon it.  For a time there was no reply, but the number of heads thrust out at neighboring windows and the swarms of townsfolk on the pathways before and behind us enormously increased.