But the youth started towards him gleefully, as if the very sight of him had dispelled all melancholy musings, and shouted merrily, “Welcome—welcome, Adam! Why so early home? Have the Alton boors turned surly? or are the King’s prickers abroad, and the neighbourhood unwholesome for bold clerks of St. Nicholas?” “Worse!” was the gruff mutter in reply. “Down, Leon: I am in no mood for thy freaks!” “What is it, Adam? Have the keepers carried their complaints to the King, of the venison we have consumed, with small thanks to him?” “Prince Edward is at Alton! What think you of that, Sir? Come to seek through copse and brake for the arrant deer-stealer and outlaw, and all his gang!” “Why, there’s preferment for you!” said the boy, laughing. “High game for the heir of the throne! And his gang! Hold up your head, Leonillo: you and I come in for a share of the honour!” “Hold up your head!” said the outlaw bitterly. “You may chance to hold it as high as your father’s is, for all your gibes and jests, my young Lord, if the Longshanks gets a hold of you, which our Lady forefend.” “Nay, I think better of my Cousin Longshanks. I loved him well when I was his page at Hereford: he was tenderer to me than ever my brothers were; and I scarce think he would hang, draw, and quarter me now.” “You may try, if you are not the better guided.” “How did you hear these tidings?” inquired the boy, changing his mood to a graver one. “From the monk to whom you confessed a fortnight back. Did you let him know your lineage?” “How could I do otherwise?” “He looked like a man who would keep a secret; and yet—” “Shame—shame to doubt the good father!” “Nay, I do not say that I do; but I would have the secret in as few men’s power as may be. Nevertheless, I thank the good brother. He called out to me as he saw me about to enter the town, that if I had any tenderness for my own life, I had best not show myself there; and he went on to tell me how the Prince was come to his hunting-lodge, with hawk and hound indeed, but for the following of men rather than bird or beast.” “And what would you have me do?” “Be instantly on the way to the coast, ere the search begins; and there, either for love of Sir Simon the righteous or for that gilt knife of yours, we may get ferried over to the Isle of Wight, whence—But what ails the dog! Whist, Leonillo! Hold your throat: I can hear naught but your clamour!” The hound was in fact barking with a tremendous lion-like note; and when, on reiterated commands from his master and the outlaw, he changed it for a low continuous growling like distant thunder, a step and a rustling of the boughs became audible. “They are upon us already!” cried the boy, snatching up and stringing his bow. “Leave me to deal with him!” returned the outlaw. “Off to Alton: the good father will receive you to sanctuary!” “Flee!—never!” cried the boy. “You teaching my father’s son to flee!”