It seemed curious to Sir Richard that, among the countless gruesome legends and wild tales that Kimbuchie had ever ready at his tongue's end, there was the same one of the Red Tavern that he had heard so often repeated whilst riding with Belwiggar along the Sauchieburn Pass. Good Tammas would not have it that twice the young knight had been beneath its roof, and was yet there before him to tell the tale. "Awell, lad," he would say, "awell. I ken well thou'st a muckle lang tongue betwixt thy teeth, ... a muckle lang tongue." Following the first two or three days of their arrival, there remained but little for Sir Richard to do within the sick knight's quarters. Isabel had both a keen eye and a right willing hand. By stretching the tent cloth across one side of the room she secured to herself a fair sized retiring room of her own. She appeared to take a positive delight in the task of transforming the rude and not over clean interior of the hut into a place that was neat, cozy, and altogether inviting. Sir Richard began to wonder why, in such a pleasing environment, de Claverlok was not making a more rapid progress toward health. They had been there now nearly a fortnight, and he appeared to have gained but little, if anything, in the way of weight or strength. Indeed, after the first day or two the sick knight had fallen into an unusual and melancholy silence. Often Sir Richard would steal a glance at him through the window, and always he would see him idly plucking at his coverings, the while his big, hollow eyes would be bent upon every movement of his fair nurse. "Richard!" Isabel called to him one morning while he was having breakfast in the lean-to. It was just past dawn, with the sun painting a rose-glory above the eastern hills. When the young knight went to her she was standing just outside the closed door of the hut. He remarked to himself how pale seemed her face in despite of the sun's warm reflection upon it. "What is it, Isabel?" he inquired, feeling a vague apprehension as to the welfare of his friend. "'Tis this, Richard," said Isabel gravely, "one of the foot-boys must you post me on to Bannockburn. Counsel him to bring instantly a leech, ... the best in the town. I would e'en send you, but you may be needed here." "I pray you, Isabel, tell me not that he is worse." "I fear me.... Ah! Much I fear me that you are soon to lose your friend," Isabel answered drearily. In all haste Sir Richard filled Harold's wallet with coins and sent him clipping above the hills toward Bannockburn, whereupon he sat down upon a boulder, yielding himself to the gloomiest of reflections. He was staring, with chin buried deep in his hands, along the winding roadway. Upon a sudden, looming gaunt against the sky, he saw the familiar figure of the knight in black riding slowly over the hills. Hurrying to the opposite side of the hut, Sir Richard stood outside the window and signed Isabel to come out.