The iron chariotThat sound of wheels, gradually stifled by the forest until it faded away, brought back one of the strange little incidents of the previous night: my meeting with the fisherman. I recalled that he, too, had come from the moor, and like me had stood listening to the sound of distant, rolling wheels. But what was it he spoke of? The Iron Chariot I saw him before me again, standing in the dark, small, hunched, shaking his head at my question: Who owns