enemy; I lent you my horse; my dinner ye have eaten; y' 'ave called me a

man o' wood, a coward, and a bully. Nay, by the mass! the measure is

filled, and runneth over. 'Tis a great thing to be weak, I trow: ye can

do your worst, yet shall none punish you; ye may steal a man's weapons in

the hour of need, yet may the man not take his own again;--y' are weak,

forsooth! Nay, then, if one cometh charging at you with a lance, and

crieth he is weak, ye must let him pierce your body through! Tut! fool

words!"

"And yet ye beat me not," returned Matcham.

"Let be," said Dick--"let be. I will instruct you. Y' 'ave been

ill-nurtured, methinks, and yet ye have the makings of some good, and,

beyond all question, saved me from the river. Nay, I had forgotten it; I

am as thankless as thyself. But, come, let us on. An we be for Holywood

this night, ay, or to-morrow early, we had best set forward speedily."

But though Dick had talked himself back into his usual good-humour,

Matcham had forgiven him nothing. His violence, the recollection of the

forester whom he had slain--above all, the vision of the upraised belt,

were things not easily to be forgotten.

"I will thank you, for the form's sake," said Matcham. "But, in sooth,

good Master Shelton, I had liever find my way alone. Here is a wide

wood; prithee, let each choose his path; I owe you a dinner and a lesson.

Fare ye well!"

The Black Arrow