heath into
copses of holly and yew, and so back into heath again. It was joyful to
hear the merry whistle of blackbirds as they darted from one clump
of greenery to the other. Now and again a peaty amber colored stream
rippled across their way, with ferny over-grown banks, where the blue
kingfisher flitted busily from side to side, or the gray and pensive
heron, swollen with trout and dignity, stood ankle-deep among the
sedges. Chattering jays and loud wood-pigeons flapped thickly overhead,
while ever and anon the measured tapping of Nature's carpenter, the
great green woodpecker, sounded from each wayside grove. On either side,
as the path mounted, the long sweep of country broadened and expanded,
sloping down on the one side through yellow forest and brown moor to
the distant smoke of Lymington and the blue misty channel which lay
alongside the sky-line, while to the north the woods rolled away, grove
topping grove, to where in the furthest distance the white spire of
Salisbury stood out hard and clear against the cloudless sky. To Alleyne
whose days had been spent in the low-lying coastland, the eager upland
air and the wide free country-side gave a sense of life and of the joy
of living which made his young blood tingle in his veins. Even the
heavy John was not unmoved by the beauty of their road, while the bowman
whistled lustily or sang snatches of French love songs in a voice which
might have scared the most stout-hearted maiden that ever hearkened to
serenade.

"I have a liking for that north countryman," he remarked presently. "He
hath good power of hatred. Couldst see by his cheek and eye that he is
as bitter as verjuice. I warm to a man who hath some gall in his liver."

"Ah me!" sighed Alleyne. "Would it not be better if he had some love in
his heart?"

"I would not say nay to that. By my hilt! I shall never be said to be
traitor to the little king. Let a man love the sex. Pasques Dieu! they
are made to be loved, les petites, from whimple down to shoe-string! I
am right glad, mon garcon, to see that the good monks have trained thee
so wisely and so well."

"Nay, I meant not worldly love, but rather that his heart should soften
towards those who have wronged him."

The archer shook his head. "A man should love those of his own breed,"
said he. "But it is not nature that an English-born man should love
a Scot or a Frenchman. Ma foi! you have not seen a drove of Nithsdale
raiders on their Galloway nags,