ow curls broke from under the
dark flat cap which he was wearing, and a short golden beard hid the
outline of his strong square chin. One white osprey feather thrust
through a gold brooch in the front of his cap gave a touch of grace to
his somber garb. This and other points of his attire, the short hanging
mantle, the leather-sheathed hunting-knife, the cross belt which
sustained a brazen horn, the soft doe-skin boots and the prick spurs,
would all disclose themselves to an observer; but at the first glance
the brown face set in gold and the dancing light of the quick, reckless,
laughing eyes, were the one strong memory left behind.

Such was the youth who, cracking his whip joyously, and followed by half
a score of dogs, cantered on his rude pony down the Tilford Lane, and
thence it was that with a smile of amused contempt upon his face
he observed the comedy in the field and the impotent efforts of the
servants of Waverley.

Suddenly, however, as the comedy turned swiftly to black tragedy, this
passive spectator leaped into quick strenuous life. With a spring he
was off his pony, and with another he was over the stone wall and flying
swiftly across the field. Looking up from his victim, the great yellow
horse saw this other enemy approach, and spurning the prostrate, but
still writhing body with its heels, dashed at the newcomer.

But this time there was no hasty flight, no rapturous pursuit to the
wall. The little man braced himself straight, flung up his metal-headed
whip, and met the horse with a crashing blow upon the head, repeated
again and again with every attack. In vain the horse reared and tried
to overthrow its enemy with swooping shoulders and pawing hoofs. Cool,
swift and alert, the man sprang swiftly aside from under the very shadow
of death, and then again came the swish and thud of the unerring blow
from the heavy handle.

The horse drew off, glared with wonder and fury at this masterful man,
and then trotted round in a circle, with mane bristling, tail streaming
and ears on end, snorting in its rage and pain. The man, hardly deigning
to glance at his fell neighbor, passed on to the wounded forester,
raised him in his arms with a strength which could not have been
expected in so slight a body, and carried him, groaning, to the wall,
where a dozen hands were outstretched to help him over. Then, at his
leisure, the young man also climbed the wall, smiling back with cool
contempt at the yellow horse,