ng cub there!"
and he shook his fist toward John. But more he did not say; perhaps he
was ashamed to tell how the wood-boy had got the best of him.

"Ay," said the Hermit, pointing a finger at him and shaking it sadly.
"The second son follows in the footsteps of his brother, and like his
father is cruel, bloodthirsty, revengeful. Beware, O King! Beware,
King's son! For happiness was never yet distilled from innocent blood,
nor life from death."

The King shuddered, as all could see. "I hunt," he said,--and it was
strange to see how he was almost apologetic,--"I hunt all animals
mercilessly, because through them the Prince my son was slain. I will
hunt them out of my kingdom, until not one remains. I will slay them
until the ground is soaked with their blood! Not an animal, save such
as are of use, shall exist in all my land. I will have no pets--no
singing birds. I hate them all!"

"Ay," said the Hermit, shaking his head sadly, "you hate them all! But
I love them all. And here they come to me. 'The sparrow hath found a
house and the swallow a nest where she may lay her young.' I will
protect them with my life. You dare not kill me, O King! Godless
though you are, once you were a Christian, and you know the meaning of
the words I spoke when I said that this was holy ground."

He drew from his bosom the iron Cross which he wore, and held it up
before the King.

The monarch shrank back and seemed to hesitate. Suddenly he wheeled
his horse and blew a blast upon his bugle. "Back!" he cried somewhat
bitterly. "We will not linger here for a paltry doe. Let us leave
this cursed wood and this crusty hermit. Back to our own demesne,
where we shall find sport enough, I dare say."

Once more he blew his horn and bounded forward out of the clearing; the
nobles after him, and the cowed, disappointed dogs trailing at the rear
with tails between their legs. John could not help feeling sorry for
them. Poor things! They at least knew no better.

John was just stooping to pet the frightened deer, when an arrow
whizzed over his shoulder and struck the creature in the haunch. The
poor animal gave a cry of pain, and blood dyed the gray mantle of the
Hermit, the first blood shed in that place of peace.

With a shout of anger John leaped up and looked over his shoulder. A
familiar wicked face grinned back at him, as a horse and rider galloped
into the forest. The King's son had skulked behind to shoot that s