hing upon himself, and debate it with you in a very honorable way."

The man scowled from one to the other, and his hand stole away from his
sword.

"You ask me for a sign," he said. "Here is a sign for you, since you
must have one." As he spoke he whirled the covering from the object
in front of him and showed to their horror that it was a newly-severed
human leg. "By God's tooth!" he continued, with a brutal laugh, "you ask
me if I am a man of quarterings, and it is even so, for I am officer
to the verderer's court at Lyndhurst. This thievish leg is to hang at
Milton, and the other is already at Brockenhurst, as a sign to all men
of what comes of being over-fond of venison pasty."

"Faugh!" cried Sir Nigel. "Pass on the other side of the road, fellow,
and let us have the wind of you. We shall trot our horses, my friends,
across this pleasant valley, for, by Our Lady! a breath of God's fresh
air is right welcome after such a sight."

"We hoped to snare a falcon," said he presently, "but we netted a
carrion-crow. Ma foi! but there are men whose hearts are tougher than a
boar's hide. For me, I have played the old game of war since ever I had
hair on my chin, and I have seen ten thousand brave men in one day with
their faces to the sky, but I swear by Him who made me that I cannot
abide the work of the butcher."

"And yet, my fair lord," said Edricson, "there has, from what I hear,
been much of such devil's work in France."

"Too much, too much," he answered. "But I have ever observed that the
foremost in the field are they who would scorn to mishandle a prisoner.
By St. Paul! it is not they who carry the breach who are wont to sack
the town, but the laggard knaves who come crowding in when a way has
been cleared for them. But what is this among the trees?"

"It is a shrine of Our Lady," said Terlake, "and a blind beggar who
lives by the alms of those who worship there."

"A shrine!" cried the knight. "Then let us put up an orison." Pulling
off his cap, and clasping his hands, he chanted in a shrill voice:
"Benedictus dominus Deus meus, qui docet manus meas ad proelium,
et digitos meos ad bellum." A strange figure he seemed to his three
squires, perched on his huge horse, with his eyes upturned and the
wintry sun shimmering upon his bald head. "It is a noble prayer," he
remarked, putting on his hat again, "and it was taught to me by the
noble Chandos himself. But how fares it with you, father? Methinks that
I sho