e falcon's head, whereon the bird, recognising him, loosed
her grip of the heron and tried to flutter to her accustomed perch upon
his wrist, only to fall to the ground, where she lay watching him with
her bright eyes. Then, because there was no help for it, although he
choked with grief at the deed, Adrian struck her on the head with his
staff until she died.

"Goodbye, friend," he muttered; "at least that is the best way to go
hence, dying with a dead foe beneath," and, picking up the peregrine, he
smoothed her ruffled feathers and placed her tenderly in his satchel.

Then it was, just as Adrian rose to his feet, standing beneath the
shadow of the big oak upon which the birds had fallen, that coming from
the road, which was separated from him by a little belt of undergrowth,
he heard the sound of men's voices growling and threatening, and with
them a woman's cry for help. At any other time he would have hesitated
and reconnoitred, or, perhaps, have retreated at once, for he knew well
the dangers of mixing himself up in the quarrels of wayfarers in those
rough days. But the loss of the hawk had exasperated his nerves, making
any excitement or adventure welcome to him. Therefore, without pausing
to think, Adrian pushed forward through the brushwood to find himself in
the midst of a curious scene.

Before him ran the grassy road or woodland lane. In the midst of it,
sprawling on his back, for he had been pulled from his horse, lay
a stout burgher, whose pockets were being rifled by a heavy-browed
footpad, who from time to time, doubtless to keep him quiet, threatened
his victim with a knife. On the pillion of the burgher's thickset
Flemish horse, which was peacefully cropping at the grass, sat a
middle-aged female, who seemed to be stricken dumb with terror, while a
few paces away a second ruffian and a tall, bony woman were engaged in
dragging a girl from the back of a mule.

Acting on the impulse of the moment, Adrian shouted,

"Come on, friends, here are the thieves," whereon the robber woman took
to flight and the man wheeled round, as he turned snatching a naked
knife from his girdle. But before he could lift it Adrian's heavy staff
crashed down upon the point of his shoulder, causing him to drop the
dagger with a howl of pain. Again the staff rose and fell, this time
upon his head, staggering him and knocking off his cap, so that the
light, such as it was, shone upon his villainous fat face, the fringe of
sand