‘How did you know?’ said Una.
‘A slow North-East wind blew up, sawing and fretting through the oaks in a way I remembered. The wildfire roared up, one last time in one sheet, and snuffed out like a rush-light, and a bucketful of stinging hail fell. We heard the Boy walking in the Long Slip — where I first met you last year.
‘"Here, oh, come here!" said the Lady Esclairmonde, and stretched out her arms in the dark.
‘He was coming slowly, but he stumbled in the footpath, being, of course, mortal man.
‘"Why, what’s this?" he said to himself. We three heard him.
‘"Hold, lad, hold! ’Ware Cold Iron!" said Sir Huon, and they two swept down like night-jars, crying as they rode.
‘I ran at their stirrups, but it was too late. We felt that the Boy had touched Cold Iron somewhere in the dark, for the Horses of the Hill shied off, and whipped round, snorting.
‘Then I judged it was time for me to show myself in my own shape; so I did.
‘"Whatever it is," I said, "he has taken hold of it. Now we must find out whatever it is that he has taken hold of: for that will be his fortune."
‘"Come here, Robin," the Boy shouted, as soon as he heard my voice. "I don’t know what I’ve hold of."
‘"It is in your hands," I called back. "Tell us if it is hard and cold, with jewels atop. For that will be a King’s Sceptre."
