At his rough tones and gestures the birds fluttered away, frightened,
and the animals slunk into the corners, trembling. The peace of the
little hut was rudely disturbed.

"Nay, my son, nay!" cried the old man in horror. "Say not such wicked
words! See how you frighten our peaceful friends. What have I tried
to teach you? It is not yours to avenge. The Lord himself will punish
as he sees best. Perhaps even now he chastens that wicked heart.
Already the King has lost his dearest, oldest son. He was killed five
years ago while hunting a wild boar in the forest. But now--"

At this moment there was a loud knock on the door of the hut. The
Hermit and John started and looked at each other in wonder. When had
such a thing happened before! Brutus and the wolf arose, bristling.
The bear growled savagely. The raven gave a screech of fear and
burrowed under John's cot. There was a moment's pause. Then the
Hermit, crossing himself, called loudly,--

"Enter, if your errand be peace. Enter, in the name of the Lord."

Quickly the latch clicked and the door flew open. Into the midst of
the startled group stumbled a man, breathless and covered with dust
from head to foot. His hat was gone. His hair was disheveled, and his
eyes bloodshot.

"Hasten!" he cried, turning to the Hermit. "You are the man I
seek,--you, skilled in herbs and healing. The King sends for you."

[Illustration: The King sends for you.]