her treasure-trove of a boat. She had made the mast from a young pine, and had woven and stitched the canvas herself. In the pleasure of her sail, she went far and stayed late; it was evening when she went down the steps of the tombs.
As she descended, she saw in the twilight of her home a lonely figure sitting crouched before the embers of the fire. Her heart beat wildly, not with fear but rage. Who had dared to violate her sanctuary? And with her wrath there mingled apprehension; if shepherd or forester found out this safe shelter, would they ever leave to her sole ownership of it?
She looked through the boughs down into the gloom. She could not see the face of the stranger; his head was bowed on his hands and his whole frame crouched up like that of a stray and shivering dog.
She took the long knife she always wore in her girdle and went down the steps; at the slight sound she made the intruder looked up as she had seen startled animals look, sprang to his feet, and, before she could stop him, had prostrated himself at hers.
'I claim your shelter,' he said, and he
