t, after an instant's
hesitation, seized the flowing mane of the horse nearest him--for it was
furnished neither with saddle nor bridle-and vaulted upon its back. At
the same moment Herne uttered a wild cry, and plunging into the pool,
sunk within it. Wyat's steed followed, and swam swiftly forward beneath
the water.

When Wyat rose to the surface, he found himself in the open lake, which
was gleaming in the moonlight. Before him he beheld Herne clambering the
bank, accompanied by his two favourite hounds, while a large white
owl wheeled round his head, hooting loudly. Behind came the grisly
cavalcade, with their hounds, swimming from beneath a bank covered by
thick overhanging trees, which completely screened the secret entrance
to the cave. Having no control over his steed, Wyat was obliged to
surrender himself to its guidance, and was soon placed by the side of
the demon hunter.

"Pledge me, Sir Thomas Wyat," said Herne, unslinging a gourd-shaped
flask from his girdle, and offering it to him. "'Tis a rare wine, and
will prevent you from suffering from your bath, as well as give you
spirits for the chase."

Chilled to the bone by the immersion he had undergone, Wyat did not
refuse the offer, but placing the flask to his lips took a deep draught
from it. The demon uttered a low bitter laugh as he received back the
flask, and he slung it to his girdle without tasting it.

The effect of the potion upon Wyat was extraordinary. The whole scene
seemed to dance around him;-the impish figures in the lake, or upon its
bank, assumed forms yet more fantastic; the horses looked like monsters
of the deep; the hounds like wolves and ferocious beasts; the branches
of the trees writhed and shot forward like hissing serpents;--and though
this effect speedily passed off, it left behind it a wild and maddening
feeling of excitement.

"A noble hart is lying in yon glen," said Morgan Fenwolf, advancing
towards his leader; "I tracked his slot thither this evening."

"Haste, and unharbour him," replied Herne, "and as soon as you rouse
him, give the halloa." Fenwolf obeyed; and shortly afterwards a cry was
heard from the glen.

"List halloa! list halloa!" cried Herne, "that's he! that's he! hyke!
Saturn! hyke, Dragon--Away!--away, my merry men all."

VI.

How Sir Thomas Wyat hunted with Herne.

Accompanied by Wyat, and followed by the whole cavalcade, Herne dashed
into the glen, where Fenwolf awaited him. Threading