he man as he
slowly regained his feet.

De la Zouch glanced contemptuously at him and turned to depart, but he
was not to go so easily.

"Nay, forsooth," cried the pedlar, clapping his hands upon the
shoulders of the nobleman. "And thou wilt forget thy debts it behoves
me to insist."

With a curse the latter turned round again, but seeing the determined
aspect of the man, he pulled out three golden nobles and offered them
to him.

The packman laughed.

"What!" he exclaimed. "I must have more than that for my bruises
alone."

"Thou art insolent; that is all I shall give thee; take it or leave it
and get thee gone. Thy word would never weigh against mine."

"Well, master," returned the other, "it is a case of life or death,
and you value your life at three sorry nobles? I would take that
rather than the money, for Manners is a friend to the poor," and
grasping his thick stick with both his hands he struck at De la Zouch
with all his might.

The blow was parried by Sir Henry, who received it upon his jumping
pole, and with blood now thoroughly aroused and life on either side to
fight for, the conflict was furiously sustained.

The packman's attack was at no time equal to the defence of his
adversary, and as he rained down blow after blow they were coolly
caught upon the pole, which, used in skilful hands in much the same
fashion as the quarter-staff, made quite an admirable weapon both for
attack and defence.

Such an unequal contest could not long continue. Science must ever
triumph over mere brute force, and this occasion proved to be no
exception to the rule, and as the man tired, his blows perceptibly
weakened. Had Sir Henry by any piece of misfortune failed to protect
himself, the end might have been different. His skill, however, saved
him in the end, and as the fury of his opponent abated the knight
became more vigorous in his attack.

The end soon came, for, raising his stout ash pole high up in the
air, De la Zouch brought it down with, tremendous force, and easily
breaking through the pedlar's guard, it alighted heavily upon his
head. With a groan the unlucky man staggered back and fell upon the
turf. The blow had struck home, and the Derby packman was no more.

Whilst this scene was being enacted, Sir Henry's page, missing his
master from amongst the hawking party, had turned back in great
trepidation to seek him. Guided by the sound of the blows, the youth
had experienced little difficulty in