How many were there?"
"Two, sire," answered Mabel; "but one of them was Herne, the weird
hunter of the forest. He said he would summon his band to make you
captive. What can your strong arm, even aided by that of the Duke of
Suffolk, avail against numbers?"
"Captive! ha!" exclaimed the king. "Said the knave so?
He did, sire," replied Mabel; "and I knew it was Herne by his antlered
helm."
"There is reason in what the damsel says, my liege," interposed Suffolk.
"If possible, you had better avoid an encounter with the villains."
"My hands itch to give them a lesson," rejoined Henry. "But I will be
ruled by you. God's death! I will return to-morrow, and hunt them down
like so many wolves."
"Where are your horses, sire?" asked Mabel.
"Tied to a tree at the foot of the hill," replied Henry. "But I have
attendants midway between this spot and Snow Hill."
"This way, then!" said Mabel, breaking from him, and darting into a
narrow path among the trees.
Henry ran after her, but was not agile enough to overtake her. At length
she stopped.
"If your majesty will pursue this path," she cried, "you will come to an
open space amid the trees, when, if you will direct your course towards
a large beech-tree on the opposite side, you will find another narrow
path, which will take you where you desire to go.
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