all that passed below. But, in spite of all his
efforts, Nature insisted upon her rights, and he, too, slept.

Over at Arcadia House, Nanna, being wakeful with the torture of an
aching tooth, happened to glance through the north windows of the room
occupied by the sisters and saw a dull-red glow on the horizon--a
conflagration. She aroused Esmay, and the two girls watched it,
wondering.

"It is in the direction of the High Bridge," said Esmay, and Nanna
nodded acquiescence. "And it is the morning of the third day," continued
Esmay, and Nanna nodded again.

The fire was a long way off, low down on the northern sky-line. But
every now and then a crimson streamer would leap upward almost to the
zenith, showing how great and vehement the conflagration must be. As the
two girls stood watching it, they heard a window flung up sharply, and
Quinton Edge's voice calling to Old Kurt and bidding him saddle a horse
with all speed.

Nanna's eyes glowed. "It is something big," she said, excitedly, and
began scrambling into her masculine attire. "Something that is worth our
while to know all about," she continued.

"But, Nanna----" began Esmay, doubtfully.

"Do you suppose that our master is going out to pick flowers? Help me
with this buckle, little sister, and talk not so foolishly."

And forthwith Esmay submitted to this new Nanna in doublet and
small-clothes, who spoke with authority and took such tremendously long
strides. If great events were really at hand, it were well to be
forewarned, and Nanna, thanks to the dash of wild-folk blood in her
veins, would be both hawk and hound upon such a trail. So Esmay
contented herself with an admonition to caution, and helped the
impatient one to depart, stealing down with her into the great hall, in
order to rebolt the outer door. She feared lest she might meet Quinton
Edge as she remounted the stairs and flew along the corridor to her
room, but she regained its shelter undisturbed. It had been many weeks
now since the master had returned, but Esmay had only seen him at a
distance, walking for hours at a time in the garden. Strange, that
seemingly he should have forgotten her very existence, but neither sign
nor message had come to her. Even his larger plans had apparently been
laid aside; not once had he left the boundaries of Arcadia House, except
for the weekly council meeting at the Citadel Square. But perhaps,
again, this was the crisis for which he had been waiting; even as