All the next day they rode on through the forest, till they came to the black circle of the old fire of their next camp.  And here Rodriguez halted on account of the attraction that one of his old camps seems to have for a wanderer.  It drew his feet towards it, this blackened circle, this hearth that for one night made one spot in the wilderness home.  Don Alderon did not care whether they tarried or hurried; he loved his journey through this leafy land; the cool night-breeze slipping round the tree-trunks was new to him, and new was the comradeship of the abundant stars; the quest itself was a joy to him; with his fancy he built Rodriguez’ mysterious castle no less magnificently than did Don Alvidar.  Sometimes they talked of the castle, each of the young men picturing it as he saw it; but in the warmth of the camp-fire after Morano slept they talked of more than these chronicles can tell.

In the morning they pressed on as fast as the forest’s low boughs would allow them.  They passed somewhere near the great cottage in which the bowmen feasted; but they held on, as they had decided after discussion to do, for the last place in which Rodriguez had seen the King of Shadow Valley, which was the place of his promise.  And before any dimness came even to the forest, or golden shafts down colonnades which were before all cathedrals, they found the old camp that they sought, which still had a clear flavour of magic for Morano on account of the moth-like coming and going of his three horses after he had tied them to that tree.  And here they looked for the King of Shadow Valley; and then Rodriguez called him; and then all three of them called him, shouting “King of Shadow Valley” all together.  No answer came:  the woods were without echo:  nothing stirred but fallen leaves.  But before those miles of silence could depress them Rodriguez hit upon a simple plan, which was that he and Alderon should search all round, far from the track, while Morano stayed in the camp and shouted frequently, and they would not go out of hearing of his voice:  for Shadow Valley had a reputation of being a bad forest for travellers to find their way there; indeed, few ever attempted to.  So they did as he said, he and Alderon searching in different directions, while Morano remained in the camp, lifting a large and melancholy voice.  And though rumour said it was hard to find the way when twenty yards from the track in Shadow Valley, it did not say it was hard to find the green bowmen:  and Rodriguez, knowing that they guarded the forest as the shadows of trees guard the coolness, was assured he would meet with some of them even though he should miss their master.  So he and Alderon searched till the forest darkness came and only birds on high branches still had light; and they never saw the King of Shadow Valley or any trace whatever of any man.  And Alderon first returned to the encampment; but Rodriguez searched on into the night, searching and calling through the darkness, and feeling, as