Matcham sat down and began to weep.

Ye can weep for your own supper, but when it was to save men's lives,

your heart was hard enough," said Dick, contemptuously. "Y' 'ave seven

deaths upon your conscience, Master John; I'll ne'er forgive you that."

"Conscience!" cried Matcham, looking fiercely up. "Mine! And ye have

the man's red blood upon your dagger! And wherefore did ye slay him, the

poor soul? He drew his arrow, but he let not fly; he held you in his

hand, and spared you! 'Tis as brave to kill a kitten, as a man that not

defends himself."

Dick was struck dumb.

"I slew him fair. I ran me in upon his bow," he cried.

"It was a coward blow," returned Matcham. "Y' are but a lout and bully,

Master Dick; ye but abuse advantages; let there come a stronger, we will

see you truckle at his boot! Ye care not for vengeance, neither--for

your father's death that goes unpaid, and his poor ghost that clamoureth

for justice. But if there come but a poor creature in your hands that

lacketh skill and strength, and would befriend you, down she shall go!"

Dick was too furious to observe that "she."

"Marry!" he cried, "and here is news! Of any two the one will still be

The Black Arrow