A tall hunter, a man of most commanding appearance and stature, stood upon the scene. Two attendants followed behind. “THE EARL OF WARWICK,” whispered Hubert, awe struck. The earl looked astonished as he saw the dog. “Who has done this?” he said, in a voice of thunder. But Martin did not tremble as he replied: “I, my lord.” “And why? did the hound attack thee?” “It was to save the poor doe and her fawn; the mother would not leave her little one, and both would have been killed together.” The indignation of the two woodsmen was almost indecorous, but they did not speak before their dread master. “And didst thou have aught to do with it?” said the earl, addressing Hubert. “Nay, my lord, I did it all with this spear; he tried to stop me,” said Martin. “Then thou shalt hang for it. “Here, Ralph, Gilbert, have you a rope between you?” Ralph, the gamekeeper, unwound one from his waist. It was too often needed, and had our Martin been a peasant lad, he would have speedily swung from a branch of the oak above, but—Hubert came bravely forward. “My Lord of Warwick, we knew not we were on your ground; we are pages from Kenilworth.” The men who had seized Martin stood motionless at this, still, however, holding him, and awaiting further orders. “Can this be true?” growled the Lord of the Bear and Ragged Staff. “Yes, my lord, you see the crest of the Montforts on our caps.” In his fury the earl had ignored the fact. “Your names?” “Martin.” “Hubert.” “‘Martin,’ ‘Hubert,’ of what? have you no ‘de,’ no second names?” “We are not permitted to bear them.” “Doubtless for good reason. And now, what shall prevent me from hanging such nobodies, and burying you both beneath this oak, without anybody being the wiser?” “The fact that you are a gentleman,” said Hubert boldly. The earl seemed struck by the answer. “Boy,” said he, “thou hast answered well, and second name or not, thou hast the right blood in thee; nor is the other lad wanting in courage. But you must both answer for this. Tomorrow I visit Kenilworth, and will see your lord. “Release them, my men. “Fare ye well till tomorrow. “My poor Bruno!” And the lads hastened home. They told no one of their adventure, save Father Edmund, who not only did not chide them, but promised to plead for them if complaint were made to Earl Simon. And very shortly, even the next day, the Earl of Warwick with an attendant squire rode up the approach to the barbican gate, and was admitted. The boys had not long to wait in suspense: they were soon summoned from their tasks into the presence of their dread yet kind lord, and his visitor. As they were ushered along the passage of that mighty castle, both felt a sinking of heart, Hubert more than Martin, for the latter had far more moral courage than his lithesome companion. “Martin, we are in bad case.” “I am not afraid.” “Do own you were wrong.” “I cannot, for I do not think I was.” “Say so at all events. What is the harm?”