ear him in mind?
Shall I not know him by his great paws and his red head? Ma foi, yes!"

"And may I ask, sir," said Alleyne, "why it is that you call yourself
champion of the Bishop of Montaubon?"

"You may ask aught which it is becoming to me to answer. The bishop hath
need of a champion, because, if any cause be set to test of combat, it
would scarce become his office to go down into the lists with leather
and shield and cudgel to exchange blows with any varlet. He looks around
him then for some tried fighting man, some honest smiter who can give a
blow or take one. It is not for me to say how far he hath succeeded, but
it is sooth that he who thinks that he hath but to do with the Bishop of
Montaubon, finds himself face to face with Francois Poursuivant d'Amour
Pelligny."

At this moment there was a clatter of hoofs upon the road, and a varlet
by the door cried out that one of the Englishmen was coming back.
The champion looked wildly about for some corner of safety, and was
clambering up towards the window, when Ford's voice sounded from
without, calling upon Alleyne to hasten, or he might scarce find his
way. Bidding adieu to landlord and to champion, therefore, he set off at
a gallop, and soon overtook the two archers.

"A pretty thing this, John," said he. "Thou wilt have holy Church upon
you if you hang her champions upon iron hooks in an inn kitchen."

"It was done without thinking," he answered apologetically, while
Aylward burst into a shout of laughter.

"By my hilt! mon petit," said he, "you would have laughed also could
you have seen it. For this man was so swollen with pride that he would
neither drink with us, nor sit at the same table with us, nor as much as
answer a question, but must needs talk to the varlet all the time that
it was well there was peace, and that he had slain more Englishmen than
there were tags to his doublet. Our good old John could scarce lay his
tongue to French enough to answer him, so he must needs reach out his
great hand to him and place him very gently where you saw him. But we
must on, for I can scarce hear their hoofs upon the road."

"I think that I can see them yet," said Ford, peering down the moonlit
road.

"Pardieu! yes. Now they ride forth from the shadow. And yonder dark
clump is the Castle of Villefranche. En avant camarades! or Sir Nigel
may reach the gates before us. But hark, mes amis, what sound is that?"

As he spoke the hoarse blast of a horn was hea