n thick clumps. From low tree-like stems
close-growing green branches raised their hardy ever-green leaves
and unfading flowers. They seemed not to be made of ordinary, juicy
flower substance, but of dry, hard scales. They were very
insignificant in size and shape; nor was their fragrance of much
account. Children of the open moors, they had not unfolded in the
still air where lilies open their alabaster petals; nor did they
grow in the rich soil from which roses draw nourishment for their
swelling crowns. What made them flowers was really their color, for
they were glowing red. They had received the color-giving sunshine
in plenty. They were no pallid cellar growth; the blessed gaiety
and strength of health lay over all the blossoming heath.

The heather covered the bare fields with its red mantle up to the
edge of the wood. There, on a gently sloping ridge, stood some
ancient, half ruined stone cairns; and however closely the heather
tried to creep to these, there were always rents in its web,
through which were visible great, flat rocks, folds in the
mountain's own rough skin. Under the biggest of these piles rested
an old king, Atle by name. Under the others slumbered those of his
warriors who had fallen when the great battle raged on the moor.
They had lain there now so long that the fear and respect of death
had departed from their graves. The path ran between their
resting-places. The wanderer by night never thought to look whether
forms wrapped in mist sat at midnight on the tops of the cairns
staring in silent longing at the stars.

It was a glittering morning, dewy and warm. The hunter who had been
out since daybreak had thrown himself down in the heather behind
King Atle's pile. He lay on his back and slept. He had dragged his
hat down over his eyes; and under his head lay his leather
game-bag, out of which protruded a hare's long ears and the bent
tail-feathers of a black-cock. His bow and arrows lay beside him.

From out of the wood came a girl with a bundle in her hand. When
she reached the flat rock between the piles of stones, she thought
what a good place it would be to dance. She was seized with an
ardent desire to try. She laid her bundle on the heather and began
to dance quite alone. She had no idea that a man lay asleep behind
the king's cairn.

The hunter still slept. The heather showed burning red against the
deep blue of the sky. An anthill stood close beside the sleeper. On
it lay a piece