atter then that he wore a suit of good chain-mail under his robes;
the arrow hit his breast and split in three on the mail.

"Beshrew the man that clad you with that mail coat! You would have
been a dead man now if your coat had been no thicker than mine," said
William.

"Yield yourself, Cloudeslee, and lay down your bow and arrows," said
the justice. "You cannot escape, for we have you safe."

"Never shall my husband yield; it is evil counsel you give," exclaimed
the brave wife from her post at the door.

The House is Burnt

The sheriff, who grew more angered as the hours passed on and
Cloudeslee was not taken, now cried aloud: "Why do we waste time
trifling here? The man is an outlaw and his life is forfeit. Let us
burn him and his house, and if his wife and children will not leave
him they shall all burn together, for it is their own choice."

This cruel plan was soon carried out. Fire was set to the door and
wooden shutters, and the flames spread swiftly; the smoke rolled up in
thick clouds into the lofty bedchamber, where the little children,
crouching on the ground, began to weep for fear.

"Alas! must we all die?" cried fair Alice, grieving for her children.

William opened the window and looked out, but there was no chance of
escape; his foes filled every street and lane around the house.
"Surely they will spare my wife and babes," he thought; and, tearing
the sheets from the bed, he made a rope, with which he let down to the
ground his children, and last of all his weeping wife.

He called aloud to the sheriff: "Sir Sheriff, here have I trusted to
you my chief treasures. For God's sake do them no harm, but wreak all
your wrath on me!"

Gentle hands received Alice and her babes, and friendly citizens led
them from the press; but Alice went reluctantly, in utter grief,
knowing that her husband must be burnt with his house or taken by his
foes; but for her children she would have stayed with him. William
continued his wonderful archery, never missing his aim, till all his
arrows were spent, and the flames came so close that his bowstring was
burnt in two. Great blazing brands came falling upon him from the
burning roof, and the floor was hot beneath his feet. "An evil death
is this!" thought he. "Better it were that I should take sword and
buckler and leap down amid my foes and so die, striking good blows in
the throng of enemies, than stay here and let them see me burn."

[Illustration: "William co