ibels, and dropped them one and all, together with
the false lining of the coat, into the hollow of a rotten tree; where,
for all I know, they may be to this day. And if, years hence, some
lover of the curious should seek to add to the treasures of his library
a true copy of that famous lost tract, "A Whip for the Bishops," let me
tell him in his ear, the book is to be had cheap, midway across Shotover
wood, somewhere to the left of the lower path which leads to Heddendon.
Nowhere else was it ever published, to that I can vouch.

I had scarcely finished my task when I heard a whoop from among the
trees, followed immediately by the whiz of an arrow which glanced
betwixt my cheek and my shoulder, and buried its head deep in the trunk
of a near tree.

I had scarcely time to face round and draw my sword, when I perceived
coming down the glade my wild scholar with a bow in his hand, and a dead
fox on his back. He had plainly not seen who I was at first, but
recognised me as soon as I turned. He marched gravely towards me,
equally heedless of my drawn sword, and of the shaft which a moment ago
had all but taken my life.

"Is it you?" said he; "I took you, in your cap and gown, for my tutor."

"You all but killed me, too," said I, wrathfully.

"Ay, it was a bad shot. Yet, had you not moved your head, it would have
spiked you by the ear to that tree. What brings you here?"

I was taken aback by the coolness of the fellow, who talked about
spiking me by the ear as if I had been the fox he carried on his back.

"Marry," said I, "you should know what brings me here. My horse and my
cloak, they brought me here, sirrah."

"Nay, they brought me here; but I am not sorry to see you. I was about
to return to the inn, to look for you."

I flushed to the roots of my hair, to think how readily I had set this
man down as a runaway thief. Never was a face less deceitful, or a
manner less suspicious; and I, if I had not been a fool, might have
known as much.

"I did you an injustice," said I, returning my sword, "I believed you
had given me the slip, and were--"

"A thief," said he, with a scornful curl on his lips. "I thank you,
master 'prentice."

I would sooner he had cut at me with his dirk. But further parley was
ended by a sudden noise of horns and a tramp of horses close by.

I sprang to the alert in an instant.

"The bishop's men!" cried I, "we are pursued. Fly!"

"Too late for that," said my comrade, as a