"Can I believe my
eyes!--do I behold Morgan Fenwolf!"
"Come with me, Mabel," cried Fenwolf, disregarding him.
But she returned a peremptory refusal.
"She shall not stir an inch! " cried the falconer. "It is thou, Morgan
Fenwolf, who must go with me. Thou art a proscribed felon, and thy life
is forfeit to the king. Yield thee, dog, as my prisoner!"
"Thy prisoner!" echoed Fenwolf scornfully. "It would take three such as
thou art to make me captive! Mabel Lyndwood, in your grandfather's
name, I command you to come with me, and let Nick Clamp look to
himself if he dares to hinder you."
"Nick will do something more than hinder her," rejoined the falconer,
brandishing his staff, and rushing upon the other. "Felon hound! I
command thee to yield!"
Before the falconer could reach him, Morgan Fenwolf plucked a long
hunting-knife from his girdle, and made a desperate stab at his
assailant. But Clamp avoided the blow, and striking Fenwolf on the
shins, immediately afterwards closed with him.
The result was still doubtful, when the struggle was suddenly
interrupted by the trampling of horse approaching from the side of
Windsor; and at the sound Morgan Fenwolf disengaged himself from his
antagonist and plunged into the adjoining wood.
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