, Richard's spirits rose, and he laughed
and shouted, as hare or rabbit rushed across the heath, or as the plover
rose screaming above his head, flapping her broad wings across the wintry
sky.

One night they slept at a Convent, where they heard that Hugh of Paris
had passed on to join the conference at Falaise. The next day they rode
on, and, towards the afternoon, the Baron pointed to a sharp rocky range
of hills, crowned by a tall solid tower, and told Richard, yonder was his
keep of Falaise, the strongest Castle in Normandy.

The country was far more broken as they advanced--narrow valleys and
sharp hills, each little vale full of wood, and interspersed with rocks.
"A choice place for game," Sir Eric said and Richard, as he saw a herd of
deer dash down a forest glade, exclaimed, "that they must come here to
stay, for some autumn sport."

There seemed to be huntsmen abroad in the woods; for through the frosty
air came the baying of dogs, the shouts and calls of men, and, now and
then, the echoing, ringing notes of a bugle. Richard's eyes and cheeks
glowed with excitement, and he pushed his brisk little pony on faster and
faster, unheeding that the heavier men and horses of his suite were not
keeping pace with him on the rough ground and through the tangled boughs.

Presently, a strange sound of growling and snarling was heard close at
hand: his pony swerved aside, and could not be made to advance; so
Richard, dismounting, dashed through some briars, and there, on an open
space, beneath a precipice of dark ivy-covered rock, that rose like a
wall, he beheld a huge grey wolf and a large dog in mortal combat. It
was as if they had fallen or rolled down the precipice together, not
heeding it in their fury. Both were bleeding, and the eyes of both
glared like red fiery glass in the dark shadow of the rock. The dog lay
undermost, almost overpowered, making but a feeble resistance; and the
wolf would, in another moment, be at liberty to spring on the lonely
child.

But not a thought of fear passed through his breast; to save the dog was
Richard's only idea. In one moment he had drawn the dagger he wore at
his girdle, ran to the two struggling animals, and with all his force,
plunged it into the throat of the wolf, which, happily, was still held by
the teeth of the hound.

The struggles relaxed, the wolf rolled heavily aside, dead; the dog lay
panting and bleeding, and Richard feared he was cruelly torn. "Poor
f