The clatter ceased.

Once again the lap of the restless river and the rustle of trees were the only sounds in the silent wood.

Philip glanced at the muffled figure of the minstrel asleep on the ground by the dead embers of the camp fire, and leaning carelessly upon his elbow, fell again into the train of thought disturbed by the clatter.
"Herodotus!" said Philip.

"Hum!" And roused to instant alertness by the crackle of a twig in the forest, he glanced sharply roadwards where the trees thinned.
There was something moving stealthily along in the shadows.

With narrowed eyes the sentry noiselessly flattened himself upon the ground and fell to watching.
A stealthy crackle--and silence.