"Dost know, Zenas," said Tyrrell sternly, "that thou hast committed a most grievous fault in not remaining to stand watch over our honored guest? Where hast thou been?" "I did but go without to fetch this log. The night hath grown cold, and I was but bethinking me of the sir knight's comfort," Zenas explained. "'Tis an ill excuse, I tell thee, Zenas. Prithee bestow the log upon the fire. Then bring in a torch, and a mattock and spade. We will bury at once the body of yonder hound." Arching his brows the dwarf looked toward his brother, toward Richard, and then upon the body of the hound. "But he does but sleep, good brother," he said, depositing the log amidst a shower of sparks within the fireplace. "Aye, 'tis true he sleeps," replied Tyrrell. "And a sleep, Zenas, from which none shall again awaken him. Our good knight yonder of the wondrous thews, dealt him a buffet that would have felled the stoutest ox in broad Scotland. Methinks it might e'en have staggered a Papist Bull, with such a hearty goodwill was it delivered." Going to the side of the hound, the hunchback bent above it, fondled the massive head and shook the fast stiffening paws. Then, with a furtive look toward his brother, who happened to be unobservant of his actions, he shot a black look of malignant hate in Sir Richard's direction. "And wilt thou suffer this----" With a finger upon his lips Tyrrell warned Zenas to instant silence. Then, leading him toward the outer door, he talked earnestly with him for several minutes. During a pause in their animated conversation the hunchback stooped and peered at the young knight in something of an odd manner. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he took his way without further ado through the door. In a little while he returned, carrying a gnarl of pine wood, which he set to blazing at the fire. Thus did Tyrrell, in a most respectful manner, beg Sir Richard to carry, whilst he and Zenas, he said, would drag out the carcass of the hound and make ready its grave. "'Twould be better that thy brother should bear the light," said Sir Richard. "I'll lend thee a hand to the carrying of the hound, and then wield either the mattock or the spade." "Tut, tut! Of the two, dost think thou art the stronger?" queried the hunchback sharply, addressing himself to Sir Richard for the first time. "Then," he added, "let me show thee." Unceremoniously thrusting the torch within the young knight's hand he lifted a heavy iron bar standing against the chimney. With but little more effort, apparently, than one would have bestowed upon the breaking of a twig he thereupon bent it fair double across his knee. Tossing aside the twisted rod he looked into Sir Richard's eyes and smiled. Rather, it was a mirthless leer, cunning, cruel, menacing. The young knight easily gathered that between Zenas and himself there remained yet an unsettled score.