"Suffer me first to hear news of my friend," said the young knight. "Thinkest thou that he will make a return to his old good health?" "Methinks he is sore in love with the maiden, Isabel," Tyrrell answered, nodding his head and smiling grimly. "Well--'tis a most powerful stimulating nostrum. An I miss not my guess, he'll get him well." Thereupon, with a right good heart, Sir Richard recounted to Tyrrell the story of his travels with de Claverlok. "And dost tell me that he has been all of these days in thy company without divulging word of our plans, or of thy part therein?" "Not one word--his knightly vow withheld his honest tongue. But I am certes ready to hear them now," declared Sir Richard. "God wot, but there's a man to maintain his knightly vow! Though 'twould have been better had he broken faith and told thee of some things. So thou art ready to listen now, Sir Richard? Well, there's a good reason for thy desire to become acquainted with these mysterious haps. But, have patience yet a little time. Everything shalt thou know when we return to the tavern; ... everything, Sir Richard." After that he sat for a long space, smiling, rubbing his hands together, and muttering to himself. Upon returning to himself, he commanded the foot-boy, Thomas, to bring him his saddle-bags. Taking from them many packages, herbs and powders, he called Isabel to him and instructed her as to the manner in which they should be administered. When he was done, she signed Sir Richard with her eyes to follow her outside. "He will soon be well, Richard," she said, taking the young knight's hand. "And now, boy, you are free--and happy, too, I make no doubt. Ah! What hosts of enemies have my sharp tongue made for me! But I'll curb it now, Richard--I've found its master," she added, laughing lightly, and thereupon went tripping through the cabin door. CHAPTER XXI OF HOW SIR RICHARD LISTENED TO A STORY IN THE FOREST When Sir Richard came again into the outer hut Tyrrell was setting a pot to boil upon the fire. As he bent above the red blaze, dropping pinches of various herbs within the kettle the while he peered closely, from time to time, into the open pages of a book lying beside him upon a stool, he minded the young knight of a black wizard, engaged in weaving some unholy incantation. "Bear me company over the hills, Sir Richard," he said presently, setting the now steaming pot upon the ground. "We must procure us another herb to complete the nostrum. I' faith, and what a smell is here!" he added, taking up a staff and starting, lame and halting, for the door. "But 'tis as efficacious to the body, withal, as the odor is displeasing to the nostrils." Sir Richard noted Tyrrell's strange demeanor as they moved slowly from hillock to hillock. When his keen eyes were not bent upon the earth, they would be regarding him with an intent and somewhat of an inquiring glance.