lip," he added, in a more natural tone, betraying
some sympathy, and taking him at the same time by the hand; "welcome
to your friends."

The tired soldier sank down upon a bench before he was able to speak.

"Thy tongue is dry, and moves slowly, and, now that I regard thee more
closely, art pale. We must cheer up thy drooping spirit"

"Having thus spoken, the young man entered the house, and presently
returned with a flagon and drinking cups.

"Drink, man," said Arundel, filling a cup with wine, "and wash all
sorrow out of thine heart. The suns that ripened the grapes out of
which this juice was crushed, were bright and joyous. May they impart
their own happiness and vigor unto thee."

The soldier put the cup to his lips, nor withdrew it until the
contents were drained.

"I feel," he said, "the good wine tingling through all my veins, and
am a new man again."

"Fill once more," said the young man, suiting the action to the word;
"one shower is not enough for so thirsty a soil."

The soldier did not refuse, and having drank a second time, he felt
refreshed.

"Pleasant enough quarters, Master Arundel," he said, looking around;
"and I see ye have some red-skins camped near by."

"They are the knight's particular friends, whose society it seems to
be his sovereign pleasure to cultivate. He has persuaded them to
gather round him, forming what may be called his body-guard."

"Or outposts of the main garrison. Well, for runners or scouts they
may answer, but for hand-to-hand action, they are naught. But where is
Sir Christopher?"

"He started on a hunt this morning, our larder having run low. Hark!"
he added, as suddenly the blast of a bugle was heard echoing through
the forest, "that is the sound wherewith he is accustomed to announce
his approach, and you will presently see him coming out of the wood."

Sure enough, in a few moments the tall form of the knight, arrayed in
a deer-skin hunting-shirt, with leggins of the same material, and "a
piece" in his hand, was seen emerging into the open space. He was
followed by a couple of Indians, each of whom bore on his shoulders a
deer.

"Quecheco," the two white men heard him say, as he came out of the
bushes, "carry thou thy deer to my lodge, and do thou, Pococke, divide
thine with thy brother Quecheco." After speaking these words he
advanced toward them.

"So, ho, Philip," cried Sir Christopher, "again under my banner. Fate
hath decreed us I think for buenas