, and tell me."

These last words were hardly whispered when the watcher opened his eyes.
At sight of the fire made up, and two strangers eyeing him keenly, he
stared, and there was a severe and pretty successful effort to be calm;
still a perceptible tremor ran all over him. Soon he manned himself,
and said gruffly. "Good morrow. But at the very moment of saying it he
missed his axe, and saw how Gerard was sitting upon it, with his own
laid ready to his hand. He lost countenance again directly. Denys smiled
grimly at this bit of byplay.

"Good morrow!" said Gerard quietly, keeping his eye on him.

The watcher was now too ill at ease to be silent. "You make free with
my fire," said he; but he added in a somewhat faltering voice, "you are
welcome."

Denys whispered Gerard. The watcher eyed them askant.

"My comrade says, sith we share your fire, you shall share his meat."

"So be it," said the man warmly. "I have half a kid hanging on a bush
hard by, I'll go fetch it;" and he arose with a cheerful and obliging
countenance, and was retiring.

Denys caught up his crossbow, and levelled it at his head. The man fell
on his knees.

Denys lowered his weapon, and pointed him back to his place. He rose and
went back slowly and unsteadily, like one disjointed; and sick at heart
as the mouse, that the cat lets go a little way, and then darts and
replaces.

"Sit down, friend," said Denys grimly, in French.

The man obeyed finger and tone, though he knew not a word of French.

"Tell him the fire is not big enough for more than thee. He will take my
meaning."

This being communicated by Gerard, the man grinned; ever since Denys
spoke he had seemed greatly relieved. "I wist not ye were strangers,"
said he to Gerard.

Denys cut a piece of bear's ear, and offered it with grace to him he had
just levelled crossbow at.

He took it calmly, and drew a piece of bread from his wallet, and
divided it with the pair. Nay, more, he winked and thrust his hand into
the heap of leaves he sat on (Gerard grasped his axe ready to brain him)
and produced a leathern bottle holding full two gallons. He put it to
his mouth, and drank their healths, then handed it to Gerard; he passed
it untouched to Denys.

"Mort de ma vie!" cried the soldier, "it is Rhenish wine, and fit
for the gullet of an archbishop. Here's to thee, thou prince of good
fellows, wishing thee a short life and a merry one! Come, Gerard, sup!
sup! Pshaw, never heed them