16 EVERYDAY ADVENTURES 
reached a bank all blue and white with enameled 
innocents. In front of this the camp-fire was always 
kindled. The Band scattered for fire-wood — but 
not far, for there were too many lurking shadows 
among those tree-trunks. At last the fire was laid 
and lighted. Five minutes later all the powers of 
darkness fled for their lives before the steady roaring 
column of smokeless flame that surged up in front 
of the Band. Followed wassail and feasting galore. 
Haunches of venison, tasting much like mutton- 
chops, broiled hissingly at the end of green beech- 
wood spits. Flagons of Adam’s ale were quaffed, and 
the loving-cup — it was of the folding variety — 
passed from hand to hand. 
All at once the substantial Tuck heaved himself 
up to his feet beside the dying fire. There was not a 
sound in the sleeping forest. Night-folk, wood- 
folk, water-folk, all were still. Then from the pursed 
lips of the Friar sounded a long, wavering, mournful 
call. Again and again it shuddered away across the 
hills. Suddenly, so far away that at first it seemed 
an echo, it was answered. Once and twice more the 
call sounded, and each time the answer was nearer 
and louder. Something was coming. As the Band 
listened aghast, around the circle made by the fire- 
light glided a dark shape with fiery eyes. It realized 
their worst fears, and with one accord they threw 
themselves on the Friar, who rocked under the 
impact. 
“Send it back, Fathie, send it back!” they shouted 
in chorus. 
