“Why does the fellow hang about here, then?” demanded Conradt, sulkily. “Let him go to the stables, as he should, and leave his matter there.” “I was to see Gotta Brent,” Wulf said, ignoring Conradt and speaking to the young knight. “See him ye shall,” was the reply. But anything further that Herr Werner might have said was cut short by the sound of a great hue and cry of men, and a groom ran through the gate shouting: “Back! Back for your lives! The foul fiend himself is loose here!” At his heels came half a dozen men, with stable forks and poles, and two others who were hanging with all their weight upon the bridle-reins of a great horse that was doing his best to throw off their hold, rearing and plunging furiously, and now and again lashing out with his iron-shod hoofs. There was a hurrying to shelter of the group about Wulf, who stood alone now, staring at the horse. The latter finally struck one of the grooms, so that the fellow lay where he rolled, at one side of the court, and then began a battle royal between horse and men. One after another, and all together, the men tried to lay hold upon the dangling rein, only to be bitten, or struck, or tossed aside, as the case might be, until at last the huge beast stood free, in the middle of the court, while the grooms and stable-hangers made all haste to get out of the way, some limping, others rubbing heads or shoulders, and one nursing a badly bitten arm. “Tinker,” called the knight from behind an abutment of the wall, “art clean daft? Get away, before he makes a meal off thee! Gad! ’twill take an arrow to save him now; and for that any man’s life would be forfeit to Herr Banf.” There was a scream from the little girl; for the horse had spied Wulf, and came edging toward him, looking wild enough, with ears laid back and teeth showing, as minded to make an end to the boy, as, doubtless, he was. For the life of him Wulf could not have told why he was not afraid as he stood there alone, and with no weapon save the armorer’s staff, which he had not time to raise ere the beast was upon him. Then were all who looked on amazed at what they saw, for close beside Wulf the horse stopped and began smelling the boy. Then he took to trembling in all his legs, and arched his neck and thrust his big head against Wulf’s breast, until, half dazed, the boy raised a hand and began patting the broad neck and stroking the mane of the charger. “By the rood,” cried one of the grooms, “the tinker hath the horseman’s word, and no mistake! The old imp knows it.” [Illustration: “THE BOY BEGAN PATTING THE BROAD NECK OF THE CHARGER.”]