Only Shalah stood aloof, his eyes fixed vacantly on the western sky, and his ear intent on the multitudinous voices of the twilit woods.
Presently food was ready, and our rude meal in that darkling place was a merry one.

Elspeth sat enthroned on a couch of pine branches--I can see her yet shielding her face from the blaze with one little hand, and dividing her cakes with the other.

Then we lit our pipes, and fell to the long tales of the camp-fire.

Ringan had a story of a black-haired princess of Spain, and how for love of her two gentlemen did marvels on the seas.

The chief one never returned to claim her, but died in a fight off Cartagena, and wrote a fine ballad about his mistress which Ringan said was still sung in the taverns of the Main.