You have heard of him, the Scarlet Hunter of the Kimash
Hills. It was he, the Sentinel of the North, the Lover of the Lost.
So deep did his words go into my heart that they have remained with
me to this hour."
"I saw him once in the White Valley," Pierre said in a low voice. "What
was it he said to you?"
The other drew a long breath, and a smile rested on his lips. Then,
slowly, as though liking to linger over them, he repeated the words of
the Scarlet Hunter:
"'O son of man, behold!
If thou shouldest stumble on the nameless trail,
The trail that no man rides,
Lift up thy heart,
Behold, O son of man, thou hast a helper near!
"'O son of man, take heed!
If thou shouldst fall upon the vacant plain,
The plain that no man loves,
Reach out thy hand,
Take heed, O son of man, strength shall be given thee!
"'O son of man, rejoice!
If thou art blinded even at the door,
The door of the Safe Tent,
Sing in thy heart,
Rejoice, O son of man, thy pilot leads thee home?'
"I never seemed to be alone after that--call it what you will, fancy or
delirium.
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