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Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts), 1856-1913

"A Prince of Cornwall A Story of Glastonbury and the West in the Days of Ina of Wessex"

"
I had forgotten that so it was, and even now I only smiled at the
prince, for my mind was full of other things as I followed him
toward the glen whence the stream came. And now I was sure that
here was growing more clearly a trace as of a seldom trodden path
toward its mouth. We passed a great flat rock, whereon were strange
markings and a hollowed basin, which stood behind the menhir near
the cliff, and to this the path led, but not beyond, from the glen.
Now we were almost in the opening, when both of us stopped and
looked at one another.
Surely there were footsteps coming among the rocks of the water
course before us. Steep and crooked as this was, we could hear
them, though as yet if it were a man or men who came we could not
see. I pulled the prince back into cover, where the rocks hid us
from any one who came down the stream, and I loosened my sword in
its sheath, for I could not be so sure that it might not be sorely
needed.
The rattle of stones came nearer, and I saw Evan hurrying to us. He
also had heard, and he had made shift to tie the horses to some
point of rock, and he ran with our spears in his hand to join us.
"Get to the other side of the pool, Thane," he said. "It may be the
band of men who wrought the burning."
"No," I answered. "Listen. Maybe there are three or four men, not
more.


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