a very small cave, if, indeed, the
recess, which was not twelve feet deep, made by the jutting out of
some huge rocks from the side of the hill, deserved the name. A brook
came dashing round before the cave, separating it as it were from its
surroundings, and deepening its privacy; and over the entrance hung
immense hemlock branches, sweeping with their evergreen plumes the
rocky roof, and almost hiding the aperture. It seemed impossible to
have selected a place better adapted for concealment.

"We need not fear," said the Knight, "to make a fire in this secluded
spot. It will serve to keep off wild animals, and as for Indians, they
can hardly be expected to stumble on us."

Arundel, as being only a follower, and inferior in experience of
wood-craft to his elder friend, made no objection, but addressed
himself to prepare for passing the night. The two, with their hunting
hatchets, cut from the moist land, watered by the brook, a quantity of
hemlock boughs, wherewith to compose their beds, making couches more
comfortable, and even luxurious to a tired wanderer, than one would
suppose who had never tried them. Next, they kindled a fire, whereupon
supper was prepared--some small game, consisting of partridges and
rabbits which they had shot in the course of the day. These, together
with the parched corn they brought from home, not without a draught or
two of aqua vitae tempered by the pure stream, satisfied the cravings
of appetite.

"And now, Master Arundel," said the Knight, after the repast was
finished, during which he had looked with admiring eyes on the
achievements of his companion, "tell me, didst ever, at princely
banquet in courtly hall, enjoy with keener zest the artificial dishes
of cunning cooks, designed to tickle the delicate and difficultly
pleased palate?"

"Never," answered Arundel. "Knew the epicures of Europe the efficacy
of a forest tramp, we should meet them oftener than Indians in the
woods."

"Thus deals boon nature with her children," said Sir Christopher. "Out
of the richness of her abundance doth she prodigally supply what man,
with all his devices, cannot obtain. The scent of the woodland, the
winged minstrelsy, the murmur of the brook, and tripping of the deer,
say I, before the inventions and appliances of dissatisfied man,
whereby he vainly tries to procure to himself pleasures which he might
have for the asking. But how fares it otherwise with thee? Art not
tired? With me, who am an