"While he is out the door is open. Once, long ago, a horse-dealer was
going home late, and he had been drinking a little. He saw the door in
the hill open and he walked in. And there he found himself in a hall,
dim and high. A row of dim lamps hung along the hall, and he saw the
smoke of them rise up to the roof, where many old banners, faded and
torn, stirred a little in the light breeze that came in by the open
door. And the light of the lamps shone down and glistened on the
bright armor of rows of men who sat with their steel helmets bowed
upon the table, and behind them were rows of horses, with their
saddles and their bridles on, ready for their riders.
"There was no sound in the cave but the shuffle of his own foot, and
the stillness and the sight that he saw made him afraid. His hand
trembled, and a bridle that he had fell upon the floor. The noise
echoed and echoed through the cave, and the warrior who sat nearest to
the poor man raised his head. 'Is it time?' the warrior said.
"'Not yet, but soon will be,' the man answered, and the warrior's head
sank again upon the table.
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