every direction, and began to join their voices to the tumult.

Soon a way was cleared, and Sir Daniel came forth in person, followed by

the bridegroom of the morrow, my Lord Shoreby.

"My lord," said Sir Daniel, "have I not told you of this knave Black

Arrow? To the proof, behold it! There it stands, and, by the rood, my

gossip, in a man of yours, or one that stole your colours!"

"In good sooth, it was a man of mine," replied Lord Shoreby, hanging

back. "I would I had more such. He was keen as a beagle and secret as a

mole."

"Ay, gossip, truly?" asked Sir Daniel, keenly. "And what came he

smelling up so many stairs in my poor mansion? But he will smell no

more."

"An't please you, Sir Daniel," said one, "here is a paper written upon

with some matter, pinned upon his breast."

"Give it me, arrow and all," said the knight. And when he had taken into

his hand the shaft, he continued for some time to gaze upon it in a

sullen musing. "Ay," he said, addressing Lord Shoreby, "here is a hate

that followeth hard and close upon my heels. This black stick, or its

just likeness, shall yet bring me down. And, gossip, suffer a plain

knight to counsel you; and if these hounds begin to wind you, flee! 'Tis

like a sickness--it still hangeth, hangeth upon the limbs. But let us

The Black Arrow