he runs to me straight, poor soul; and often he comes quite faint. And
to think I have nothing to set before my servant that loves me so dear."

Martin scratched his head. "What can I do?"

"It is Thursday; it is your day to shoot; sooth to Say, I counted on you
to-day."

"Nay," said the soldier, "I may not shoot when the Duke or his friends
are at the chase; read else. I am no scholar." And he took out of his
pouch a parchment with a grand seal. It purported to be a stipend and a
licence given by Philip, Duke of Burgundy, to Martin Wittenhaagen, one
of his archers, in return for services in the wars, and for a wound
received at the Dukes side. The stipend was four merks yearly, to be
paid by the Duke's almoner, and the licence was to shoot three arrows
once a week, viz., on Thursday, and no other day, in any of the Duke's
forests in Holland, at any game but a seven-year-old buck or a doe
carrying fawn; proviso, that the Duke should not be hunting on that day,
or any of his friends. In this case Martin was not to go and disturb the
woods on peril of his salary and his head, and a fine of a penny.

Margaret sighed and was silent.

"Come, cheer up, mistress," said he; "for your sake I'll peril my
carcass; I have done that for many a one that was not worth your
forefinger. It is no such mighty risk either. I'll but step into the
skirts of the forest here. It is odds but they drive a hare or a fawn
within reach of my arrow."

"Well, if I let you go, you must promise me not to go far, and not to