“Now yield thee, Whelp of Mountjoy,” he panted, “quick, ere thou diest.” “Thou hast won,” I answered, “but, fighting thus, ’twere more to thy honor to have been overcome.” “None of thy insolence,” he snarled, “yield thee now as my prisoner and vassal, and say that thou’lt ever yield obedience to the Carleton as thy liege lord.” At this my gorge rose and the world turned black about me. “Never,” I groaned, “better far to die than suffer such disgrace.” “Die then,” he shouted, hideously, and drew back his poniard for the thrust. I closed my eyes, yet blood-red figures swam across my vision. In an instant the steel would pierce my throat. Then of a sudden the grip of my enemy relaxed, and his body rolled heavily from me. I started up, and saw the Carleton lying face up on the oak leaves, his forehead pierced by a cross-bolt. Running toward me through the undergrowth was a figure in Lincoln green which my staring eyes soon told me was the young forester who had defied me in the glen but half an hour gone. His cross-bow was in his hand, and he panted for breath as he approached and called: “Art thou hurt, Master? Has he stabbed thee?” “Not a whit,” I answered dazedly, examining my limbs and body the while, “I have to thank thee then for my life. Thou camest in the nick of time.” “The Saints be thanked,” he answered joyfully. “The Carleton there has what he well deserves. I heard the sword-play from the glen yonder, and soon knew the voice of that black caitiff. I was coming softly through the woods, wishing but to see close at hand a gallant passage at arms, when he overthrew thee and would have foully murdered thee, his prisoner. ’Twas well my bolt already lay in groove.” “Son of Elbert,” I answered, offering him my right hand, “thou’rt a ready man and a true, and willing I am to call thee friend. But what other name hast thou?” He took my hand in a mighty grip and smiled most winsomely. “Cedric,” he replied, “a goodly Saxon name, borne by my grandfather before me.” “Well then, Cedric, we must bethink us what shall be done in this juncture. Yonder horse of the Carleton’s is ours by lawful spoil. Mount therefore, and let us betake ourselves from here as soon as may be.” I took up my sword and my cap from the oak leaves. He turned toward the horse, and in so doing his glance carried far down the pathway which there for a quarter mile was straight beneath the oak-trees. Then he turned back to me with a cry of alarm. “Mount and quickly. There be a half dozen of the Carleton men-at-arms. An they catch us here by the body of their master, they will have our blood. Come! For our lives!”