ng wroth.
Therefore, when ye came not, our comrades fell to factions and riot,
whereat I, perforce, smote me one or two and Walkyn three or four and
so brought peace among them. But when we would have tarried yet for
thee, these rogue-fellows clamoured for Walkyn to lead them into the
wild, back to their ancient outlawry; so loud they clamoured and so
oft, that, in the end, Walkyn smiled--a strange thing in him, master--
but he agreed, whereon we came nigh to cutting each other's throats,
he and I. Howbeit, in the end he went, he and all the other rogues. So
bided I alone in the Hollow, day and night, waiting thee, master, and
at the last, cometh Sir Fidelis--and so all's said and behold thy
breakfast--a coney, see you, lord, that I snared but yest're'en."

"Our company gone--outlaws, spending their lives to no purpose--here is
evil news, Roger!"

"Here is tender meat, master, and delicate!"

"Back to outlawry! And Walkyn too!"

"Aye--but he smiled, master! Walkyn, methinks, is not a jovial soul,
lord, and when he smileth it behoveth others to frown and--beware. So
prithee eat hearty, lord, for, in a while the sun will stand above yon
whin-bush, and then 'twill be the eleventh hour, and at the eleventh
hour must I wash thy hurt and be-plaster it with this good ointment."

"What then?"

"Then shalt thou sleep, master, and I to the woods with my bow to get
us meat--sweet juicy venison, an the saints be kind!"

"And wherefore at the eleventh hour?"

"For that--She did so command me, master."

"She?" sighed Beltane.

"Aye, forsooth, master. She that the good Saint Cuthbert shall give to
thy close embracements one day."

"Think you so?" spake Beltane beneath his breath, and staring across
the sunny glade with eyes of yearning, "think you so indeed, Roger?"

"Of a surety, lord," nodded Roger, "seeing that I do plague the good
saint on the matter continually--for, master, when I pray, I do pray
right lustily."

So, in a while, the meal done and crock and pannikin washed and set
aside, Beltane's leg is bathed and dressed right skilfully with hands,
for all their strength and hardness, wondrous light and gentle.
Thereafter, stretched upon his bed of heather, Beltane watches Black
Roger gird on belt and quiver, and, bow in hand, stride blithely into
the green, and, ere he knows it, is asleep. And in his sleep, beholds
one who bends to kiss him, white hands outstretched and all heaven in
her eyes; and with her voi