, and there a fairy ring."

"I see neither," said Rolfe. "It looks as smooth as a table. But we can
easily shift under the cedars where there is no grass."

"Here's a projecting root," announced the Secretary, when the new ground
had been reached.

Rolfe shrugged his shoulders, but we moved again.

"The light comes jaggedly through the branches," objected my lord's
second. "Better try the open again."

Rolfe uttered an exclamation of impatience, and my lord stamped his foot
on the ground. "What is this foolery, sir?" the latter cried fiercely.
"The ground's well enough, and there 's sufficient light to die by."

"Let the light pass, then," said his second resignedly. "Gentlemen,
are you read--Ods blood! my lord, I had not noticed the roses upon your
lordship's shoes! They are so large and have such a fall that they
sweep the ground on either side your foot; you might stumble in all that
dangling ribbon and lace. Allow me to remove them."

He unsheathed his knife, and, sinking upon his knees, began leisurely to
sever the threads that held the roses to the leather. As he worked, he
looked neither at the roses nor at my lord's angry face, but beneath his
own bent arm toward the church and the town beyond.

How long he would have sawed away at the threads there is no telling;
for my lord, amongst whose virtues patience was not one, broke from him,
and with an oath stooped and tore away the offending roses with his
own hand, then straightened himself and gripped his sword more closely.
"I've learned one thing in this d----d land," he snarled, "and that is
where not to choose a second. You, sir," to Rolfe, "give the word."

Master Pory rose from his knees, unruffled and unabashed, and still with
a curiously absent expression upon his fat face and with his ears cocked
in the direction of the church. "One moment, gentlemen," he said. "I
have just bethought me"--

"On guard!" cried Rolfe, and cut him short.

The King's favorite was no mean antagonist. Once or twice the thought
crossed my mind that here, where I least desired it, I had met my match.
The apprehension passed. He fought as he lived, with a fierce intensity,
a headlong passion, a brute force, bearing down and overwhelming most
obstacles. But that I could tire him out I soon knew.

The incessant flash and clash of steel, the quick changes in position,
the need to bring all powers of body and mind to aid of eye and wrist,
the will to win, the shame of loss