. Signed by us upon the eve of
Saint Withold's day, under the great oak in the Hart-hill Walk, the
above being written by a holy man, clerk to God and Saint Dunstan in the
chapel of Copmanhurst."

The knights heard this uncommon document read from end to end and then
gazed upon each other in silent amazement, as being utterly at a loss to
know what it could portend. De Bracy was the first to break silence by
an uncontrollable fit of laughter, wherein he was joined, though with
more moderation, by the Templar. Front-de-Boeuf, on the contrary, seemed
impatient of their ill-timed [v]jocularity.

"I give you plain warning," he said, "fair sirs, that you had better
consult how to bear yourselves under these circumstances than to give
way to such misplaced merriment."

"Front-de-Boeuf has not recovered his temper since his overthrow in the
tournament," said De Bracy to the Templar. "He is cowed at the very idea
of a cartel, though it be from a fool and a swineherd."

"I would thou couldst stand the whole brunt of this adventure thyself,
De Bracy," answered Front-de-Boeuf. "These fellows dared not to have
acted with such inconceivable impudence had they not been supported by
some strong bands. There are enough outlaws in this forest to resent my
protecting the deer. I did but tie one fellow, who was taken red-handed
and in the fact, to the horns of a wild stag, which gored him to death
in five minutes, and I had as many arrows shot at me as were launched in
the tournament. Here, fellow," he added to one of his attendants, "hast
thou sent out to see by what force this precious challenge is to be
supported?"

"There are at least two hundred men assembled in the woods," answered a
squire who was in attendance.

"Here is a proper matter!" said Front-de-Boeuf. "This comes of lending
you the use of my castle. You cannot manage your undertaking quietly,
but you must bring this nest of hornets about my ears!"

"Of hornets?" echoed De Bracy. "Of stingless drones rather--a band of
lazy knaves who take to the wood and destroy the venison rather than
labor for their maintenance."

"Stingless!" replied Front-de-Boeuf. "Fork-headed shafts of a cloth-yard
in length, and these shot within the breadth of a French crown, are
sting enough."

"For shame, sir knight!" said the Templar. "Let us summon our people
and sally forth upon them. One knight--ay, one man-at-arms--were enough
for twenty such peasants."

"Enough, and too much," a