harm?"

"My tongue was given me to express my thoughts, not to conceal
them."

"Then you will be beaten."

"And bear it; it was all my doing."

At that moment the heavy doors swung open, and they stood in the
presence of the two mightiest earls of the Midlands. They stood as
two culprits, Hubert very sheepish, with his head cast down, Martin
with a comical mixture of resignation and apprehension.

"How is this?" said the Earl Simon. "I hear that you two killed the
good deerhound of my brother of Warwick."

"It was I, my lord, not Hubert."

"They were both together," whispered the Earl of Warwick. "I saw
not who did the deed."

"We may believe Martin."

"So thou dost take all the blame upon thyself, Martin."

"All the blame, if blame there was, my lord."

"If blame there was! Surely thou art mad, boy! and thy back will
verify the force of Solomon's proverb, a rod for the fool's back,
unless thou change thy tone and ask pardon of my good brother."

"My Lord of Warwick, I am very sorry that I was forced to kill your
good hound, and hope you will forgive me."

"Forced to kill!"

"If I had not, he would have killed the poor doe and her fawn
together, and I could not have seen that, if I had to hang for it,
as the noble earl threatened I should."

"Tell me the whole story," said the Earl of Leicester.

"Pardon me, my good brother, I want to hear how he defends
himself."

And Martin began:

"We were in the woods, when we heard a great rustling, and saw a
doe crossing the path, very frightened, but for all that she kept
stopping and looking back, and we saw a little fawn by her side,
who couldn't keep up; then we heard the hound baying behind, and
the poor mother trembled and started, but wouldn't leave her little
one, but bleated piteously to the wee thing to make haste. I never
saw an animal in such distress before, and I could not bear it, so
I stood in the track to stop the dog, and he rushed upon my spear.
I was very sorry for the good hound, but I was more sorry for the
doe and her fawn."

"And thou wouldst do the same thing again, I suppose?" said the
Earl of Leicester.

"I couldn't help it."

"And what didst thou do, Hubert?"

"I tried to stop him, but I couldn't."

"Thou didst not feel the same pity, then, for the deer?"

"No, my lord, because I thought dogs were made to hunt deer, and
deer to be hunted."

"Thou art quite right, my lad," said he of Warwick, "and the other
lad is a s