Morgan
Fenwolf started forth, and planted himself in their path. The gear
of the proscribed keeper was wild and ragged, his locks matted and
disordered, his demeanour savage, and his whole appearance forbidding
and alarming.

"I have been waiting for you for some time, Mabel Lyndwood," he said.
"You must go with me to your grandfather."

"My grandfather would never send you for me," replied Mabel; "but if he
did, I will not trust myself with you."

"The saints preserve us!" cried Nicholas Clamp. "Can I believe my
eyes!--do I behold Morgan Fenwolf!"

"Come with me, Mabel," cried Fenwolf, disregarding him.

But she returned a peremptory refusal.

"She shall not stir an inch!" cried the falconer. "It is thou, Morgan
Fenwolf, who must go with me. Thou art a proscribed felon, and thy life
is forfeit to the king. Yield thee, dog, as my prisoner!"

"Thy prisoner!" echoed Fenwolf scornfully. "It would take three such as
thou art to make me captive! Mabel Lyndwood, in your grandfather's name,
I command you to come with me, and let Nick Clamp look to himself if he
dares to hinder you."

"Nick will do something more than hinder her," rejoined the falconer,
brandishing his staff, and rushing upon the other. "Felon hound! I
command thee to yield!"

Before the falconer could reach him, Morgan Fenwolf plucked a long
hunting-knife from his girdle, and made a desperate stab at his
assailant. But Clamp avoided the blow, and striking Fenwolf on the
shins, immediately afterwards closed with him.

The result was still doubtful, when the struggle was suddenly
interrupted by the trampling of horse approaching from the side of
Windsor; and at the sound Morgan Fenwolf disengaged himself from his
antagonist and plunged into the adjoining wood. The next moment Captain
Bouchier rode up, followed by a small band of halberdiers, and receiving
information from the falconer of what had occurred, darted with his
men into the wood in search of the fugitive. Nicholas Clamp and his
companion did not await the issue of the search, but proceeded on their
way.

As they walked at a brisk pace, they reached the long avenue in about
half-an-hour, and took their way down it. When within a mile of the
castle they were overtaken by Bouchier and his followers, and the
falconer was much disappointed to learn that they had failed in tracking
Morgan Fenwolf to his lair. After addressing a few complimentary words
to the maiden, Bouchier rode on.

Soon