"Not a twig stirs," said Dick.

"I think shame to leave him lying," said Bennet, coming forward once more

with hesitating steps and a very pale countenance. "Keep a good eye on

the wood, Master Shelton--keep a clear eye on the wood. The saints

assoil us! here was a good shoot!"

Bennet raised the old archer on his knee. He was not yet dead; his face

worked, and his eyes shut and opened like machinery, and he had a most

horrible, ugly look of one in pain.

"Can ye hear, old Nick?" asked Hatch. "Have ye a last wish before ye

wend, old brother?"

Pluck out the shaft, and let me pass, a' Mary's name!" gasped Appleyard.

I be done with Old England. Pluck it out!"

"Master Dick," said Bennet, "come hither, and pull me a good pull upon

the arrow. He would fain pass, the poor sinner."

Dick laid down his cross-bow, and pulling hard upon the arrow, drew it

forth. A gush of blood followed; the old archer scrambled half upon his

feet, called once upon the name of God, and then fell dead. Hatch, upon

his knees among the cabbages, prayed fervently for the welfare of the

passing spirit. But even as he prayed, it was plain that his mind was

still divided, and he kept ever an eye upon the corner of the wood from

which the shot had come. When he had done, he got to his feet again,

The Black Arrow