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hobblers； are they not？ And who are these who are lashed to their
stirrups？〃
A small troop of mounted bowmen had ridden out of an oak grove
upon the left of the road。 They trotted up to where the three
knights had halted。 Two wretched peasants whose wrists had been
tied to their leathers came leaping and straining beside the
horses in their effort not to be dragged off their feet。 One was
a tall； gaunt； yellow…haired man； the other short and swarthy； but
both so crusted with dirt； so matted and tangled and ragged； that
they were more like beasts of the wood than human beings。
〃What is this？〃 asked Knolles。 〃Have I not ordered you to leave
the countryfolk at peace？〃
The leader of the archers； old Wat of Carlisle； held up a sword； a
girdle and a dagger。 〃If it please you； fair sir；〃 said he； 〃I
saw the glint of these； and I thought them no fit tools for hands
which were made for the spade and the plow。 But when we had
ridden them down and taken them； there was the Bentley cross upon
each； and we knew that they had belonged to yonder dead Englishman
upon the road。 Surely then； these are two of the villains who
have slain him； and it is right that we do justice upon them。〃
Sure enough； upon sword； girdle and dagger shone the silver Molene
cross which had gleamed on the dead man's armor。 Knolles looked
at them and then at the prisoners with a face of stone。 At the
sight of those fell eyes they had dropped with inarticulate howls
upon their knees； screaming out their protests in a tongue which
none could understand。
〃We must have the roads safe for wandering Englishmen；〃 said
Knolles。 〃These men must surely die。 Hang them to yonder tree。〃
He pointed to a live…oak by the roadside； and rode onward upon his
way in converse with his fellow…knights。 But the old bowman had
ridden after him。
〃If it please you； Sir Robert； the bowmen would fain put these men
to death in their own fashion；〃 said he。
〃So that they die； I care not how；〃 Knolles answered carelessly；
and looked back no more。
Human life was cheap in those stern days when the footmen of a
stricken army or the crew of a captured ship were slain without
any question or thought of mercy by the victors。 War was a rude
game with death for the stake； and the forfeit was always claimed
on the one side and paid on the other without doubt or hesitation。
Only the knight might be spared； since his ransom made him worth
more alive than dead。 To men trained in such a school； with death
forever hanging over their own heads； it may be well believed that
the slaying of two peasant murderers was a small matter。
And yet there was special reason why upon this occasion the bowmen
wished to keep the deed in their own hands。 Ever since their
dispute aboard the Basilisk； there had been ill…feeling betwixt
Bartholomew the old bald…headed bowyer； and long Ned Widdington
the Dalesman； which had ended in a conflict at Dinan； in which not
only they； but a dozen of their friends had been laid upon the
cobble…stones。 The dispute raged round their respective knowledge
and skill with the bow； and now some quick wit amongst the
soldiers had suggested a grim fashion in which it should be put to
the proof； once for all； which could draw the surer shaft。
A thick wood lay two hundred paces from the road upon which the
archers stood。 A stretch of smooth grassy sward lay between。 The
two peasants were led out fifty yards from the road； with their
faces toward the wood。 There they stood； held on a leash； and
casting many a wondering frightened glance over their shoulders at
the preparations which were being made behind them。
Old Bartholomew and the big Yorkshireman had stepped out of the
ranks and stood side by side each with his strung bow in his left
hand and a single arrow in his right。 With care they had drawn on
and greased their shooting…gloves and fastened their bracers。
They plucked and cast up a few blades of grass to measure the
wind； examined every small point of their tackle； turned their
sides to the mark； and Widened their feet in a firmer stance。
》From all sides came chaff and counsel from their comrades。
〃A three…quarter wind； bowyer！〃 cried one。 〃Aim a body's breadth
to the right！〃
〃But not thy body's breadth； bowyer；〃 laughed another。 〃Else may
you be overwide。〃
〃Nay； this wind will scarce turn a well…drawn shaft；〃 said a
third。 〃Shoot dead upon him and you will be clap in the clout。〃
〃 Steady； Ned； for the good name of the Dales；〃 cried a
Yorkshireman。 〃 Loose easy and pluck not； or I am five crowns the
poorer man。〃
〃A week's pay on Bartholomew！〃 shouted another。 〃Now； old
fat…pate； fail me not！〃
〃Enough； enough！ Stint your talk！〃 cried the old bowman； Wat of
Carlisle。 〃Were your shafts as quick as your tongues there would
be no facing you。 Do you shoot upon the little one； Bartholomew；
and you； Ned； upon the other。 Give them law until I cry the word；
then loose in your own fashion and at your own time。 Are you
ready！ Hola； there； Hayward； Beddington； let them run！〃
The leashes were torn away； and the two men； stooping their heads；
ran madly for the shelter of the wood amid such a howl from the
archers as beaters may give when the hare starts from its form。
The two bowmen； each with his arrow drawn to the pile； stood like
russet statues； menacing； motionless； their eager eyes fixed upon
the fugitives； their bow…staves rising slowly as the distance
between them lengthened。 The Bretons were half…way to the wood；
and still Old Wat was silent。 It may have been mercy or it may
have been mischief； but at least the chase should have a fair
chance of life。 At six score paces he turned his grizzled head at
last。
〃Loose！〃 he cried。
At the word the Yorkshireman's bow…string twanged。 It was not for
nothing that he had earned the name of being one of the deadliest
archers of the North and had twice borne away the silver arrow of
Selby。 Swift and true flew the fatal shaft and buried itself to
the feather in the curved back of the long yellow…haired peasant。
Without a sound he fell upon his face and lay stone…dead upon the
grass； the one short white plume between his dark shoulders to
mark where Death had smote him。
The Yorkshireman threw his bowstave into the air and danced in
triumph； whilst his comrades roared their fierce delight in a
shout of applause； which changed suddenly into a tempest of
hooting and of laughter。
The smaller peasant； more cunning； than his comrade； had run more
slowly； but with many a backward glance。 He had marked his
companion's fate and had waited with keen eyes until he saw the
bowyer loose his string。 At the moment he had thrown himself flat
upon the grass and had heard the arrow scream above him；… and seen
it quiver in the turf beyond。 Instantly he had sprung to his feet
again and amid wild whoops and halloos from the bowmen had made
for the shelter of the wood。 Now he had reached it； and ten score
good paces separated him from the nearest of his persecutors。
Surely they could not reach him here。 With the tangled brushwood
behind him he was as safe as a rabbit at the mouth of his burro