Now followed the marvel of this vision.  Giving tongue as they came, half swimming and half plunging, the hounds drew near to the island where we slept.  Then, suddenly Leo saw that we were no longer alone.  In front of us, on the brink of the water, stood the figure of a woman clad in some dark garment.  He could not describe her face or appearance, for her back was towards him.

All he knew was that she stood there, like a guard, holding some object in her raised hand, and that suddenly the advancing hounds caught sight of her.  In an instant it was as though they were paralysed by fear—­for their bays turned to fearful howlings.  One or two of those that were nearest to the island seemed to lose their footing and be swept away by the stream.  The rest struggled back to the bank, and fled wildly like whipped curs.

Then the dark, commanding figure, which in his dream Leo took to be the guardian Spirit of the Mountain, vanished.  That it left no footprints behind it I can vouch, for in the morning we looked to see.

When, awakened by the sharp pangs in my arm, I opened my eyes again, the dawn was breaking.  A thin mist hung over the river and the island, and through it I could see Leo sleeping heavily at my side and the shape of the black horse, which had risen and was grazing close at hand.  I lay still for a while remembering all that we had undergone and wondering that I should live to wake, till presently above the murmuring of the water I heard a sound which terrified me, the sound of voices.  I sat up and peered through the reeds, and there upon the bank, looking enormous in the mist, I saw two figures mounted upon horses, those of a woman and a man.

They were pointing to the ground as though they examined spoor in the sand.  I heard the man say something about the dogs not daring to enter the territory of the Mountain, a remark which came back to my mind again after Leo had told me his dream.  Then I remembered how we were placed.

“Wake!” I whispered to Leo.  “Wake, we are pursued.”

He sprang to his feet, rubbing his eyes and snatching at a spear.  Now those upon the bank saw him, and a sweet voice spoke through the mist, saying—­“Lay down that weapon, my guest, for we are not come to harm you.”

It was the voice of the Khania Atene, and the man with her was the old Shaman Simbri.

“What shall we do now, Horace?” asked Leo with something like a groan, for in the whole world there were no two people whom he less wished to see.

“Nothing,” I answered, “it is for them to play.”

“Come to us,” called the Khania across the water.  “I swear that we mean no harm.  Are we not alone?”

“I do not know,” answered Leo, “but it seems unlikely.  Where we are we stop until we are ready to march again.”