ugh at your threats here as elsewhere, Harry," cried Herne. "We
shall meet tomorrow."

And flinging the horn cup in the face of the man nearest him, he sprang
through an open window at the back, and disappeared.

Both Cutbeard and Shoreditch were much alarmed lest the freedom of their
expressions should be taken in umbrage by the king; but he calmed their
fears by bestowing a good humoured buffet on the cheek of the latter of
them, and quitting the hostel, returned to the castle by the same way he
had left it.

On the following morning, about ten o'clock, he rode into the great
park, attended by a numerous train. His demeanour was moody and stern,
and a general gloom pervaded the company. Keeping on the western side
of the park, the party crossed Cranbourne chase; but though they
encountered several fine herds of deer, the king gave no orders to
uncouple the hounds.

At last they arrived at that part of the park where Sandpit Gate is now
situated, and pursuing a path bordered by noble trees, a fine buck was
suddenly unharboured, upon which Henry gave orders to the huntsmen and
others to follow him, adding that he himself should proceed to Snow
Hill, where they would find him an hour hence.

All understood why the king wished to be alone, and for what purpose he
was about to repair to the eminence in question, and therefore, without
a word, the whole company started off in the chase.

Meanwhile, the king rode slowly through the woods, often pausing to
listen to the distant sounds of the hunters, and noticing the shadows
on the greensward as they grew shorter, and proclaimed the approach of
noon. At length he arrived at Snow Hill, and stationed himself beneath
the trees on its summit.

From this point a magnificent view of the castle, towering over its
pomp of woods, now covered with foliage of the most vivid green, was
commanded. The morning was bright and beautiful, the sky cloudless,
and a gentle rain had fallen over night, which had tempered the air and
freshened the leaves and the greensward. The birds were singing blithely
in the trees, and at the foot of the hill crouched a herd of deer. All
was genial and delightful, breathing of tenderness and peace, calculated
to soften the most obdurate heart.

The scene was not without its effect upon Henry; but a fierce tumult
raged within his breast. He fixed his eyes on the Round Tower, which
was distinctly visible, and from which he expected the signal, and then