THE SWEET-SCENTED NAME
torn, his dark hair dabbled in blood. And the child streaming blood as he ran, moaned and shouted and threatened with a maledictory hand.
With wild rage the soldiers drew their swords and dashed at the boy and slew him again, hacking him into a hundred bits and trampling the flesh under their horses' feet. And before they resumed their journey they scattered the remains of the dead child's body and flung portions north, south, east, and west.
Then they wiped their swords in the grass, got into their saddles, and hastened once more onward on the long roundabout homeward road. But hardly had they resumed their journey than the moody silence that was between them and around them was broken by a sharp exclamation: "Murderers!" and once more they were assailed by a running accompaniment of curses and denunciation from an unseen child.
They turned their horses in terror and rage, and sought the spirit out again, and away in the darkness once more they saw the strange boy running with torn garments and black hair dabbled in blood, with blood streaming from his hands. And once more
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