GRIFFEN THE HIGH FLIER 83 



self at the top of the mountain and at the very- 

 entrance to the great white castle whose towers 

 he had seen and admired from below. The gate 

 was open, as if beckoning him to enter, and 

 Rabican and his rider had already disappeared 

 within. Astolpho, not minded to lose so good a 

 steed, ran boldly onward into the courtyard. 



Some knights were there, pitching horseshoes, 

 but they were so busy with their game that they 

 did not notice his entrance. He looked into the 

 banquet hall. A number of lords and ladies were 

 seated about the table, feasting and making 

 merry. He ran into the garden. There was no 

 Rabican there. He peeped into the cellars. 

 Hogsheads of wine and barrels of beef and pork 

 were ranged about the walls, and red-faced 

 kitchen servants were running here and there; 

 but there were no signs of either the horse or the 

 thief. He asked a lubberly boy to show him the 

 way to the stables, but the fellow merely stared 

 at him and made no answer. As he went into 

 the courtyard again, an old man with long, flow- 

 ing beard came out with a book in his hand and 

 began to read. 



But Astolpho, too, had a book — a book which 

 a prince of India had given him, and which he 



