The lad was very simply dressed in a tunic of soft, well-dressed
leather, upon the breast of which was stamped some device which might
have been the badge of his house. His active limbs were encased in the
same strong, yielding material, and the only thing about him which
seemed to indicate rank or birth was a belt with a richly-chased gold
clasp and a poniard with a jewelled hilt.

Perhaps the noble bearing of the boy was his best proof of right to the
noble name he bore. One of the last of the royal house of Dynevor, he
looked every inch a prince, as he stood bare-headed in the sunlight
amidst the everlasting hills of his well-loved home, too young to see
the clouds which were settling so darkly and so surely upon the bright
horizon of his life -- his dreams still of glory and triumph,
culminating in the complete emancipation of his well-loved country from
the hated English yoke.

The dog strained and whined against the detaining clasp upon his neck,
but the boy held him fast.

"Nay, Gelert, we are not going a-hunting," he said. "Hark! is not that
the sound of a horn? Are they not even now returning? Over yon fell they
come. Let me but hear their hail, and thou and I will be off to meet
them. I would they heard the news first from my lips. My mother bid me
warn them. I wot she fears what Llewelyn and Howel might say or do were
they to find English guests in our hall and they all unwarned."

Once more the boy raised his voice in the wild call which had awakened
the echoes before, and this time his practised ear distinguished amongst
the multitudinous replies an answering shout from human lips. Releasing
Gelert, who dashed forward with a bay of delight, the lad commenced