The knight now removed his helmet, and discovered a handsome young man of some twenty-four or twenty-five years old.

“I am,” he said, “Baron Ernest of Kornstein.  To whom do I owe my life?”

“In spite of my red cross,” Cuthbert said, “I am English.  My name is Sir Cuthbert, and I am Earl of Evesham.  I am on my return from the Holy Land with my followers; and as we are passing through countries where many of the people are hostile to England, we have thought it as well for a time to drop our nationality.  But to you I do not hesitate to tell the truth.”

“You do well,” the young knight said, “for, truth to say, the people of these parts bear but little love to your countrymen.  You have saved my life when I was in the sorest danger.  I had given myself up for lost, for even my armor could not have saved me long from these wretches; and my sword and life are at your disposal.  You are young indeed,” he said, looking with surprise at Cuthbert, who had now thrown back the hood of his cloak, “to have gained the honor of knighthood.  You scarce look eighteen years of age, although, doubtless, you are older.”

“I am scarce seventeen,” Cuthbert said; “but I have had the good fortune to attract the notice of King Richard, and to have received the knighthood from his sword.”

“None more worthy,” said the young knight, “for although King Richard may be fierce and proud, he is the worthiest knight in Christendom, and resembles the heroes of romance rather than a Christian king.”

“He is my lord and master,” Cuthbert said, “and I love him beyond all men, and would give my life for his.  He is the kindest and best of masters; and although it be true that he brooks no opposition, yet is it only because his own bravery and eagerness render hateful to him the indolence and cowardice of others.”

They now took their seats round the fire.  The archers, by the advice of the guide, rubbed their wounds with snow, and then applied bandages to them.  The wallets were opened, and a hearty supper eaten; and all, wrapping themselves in their fur cloaks, were soon asleep.

For four days the gale continued, keeping the party prisoners in the hut.  On the fifth the force of the wind abated, and the snow ceased to fall.  They were forced to take the door off its hinges to open it, for the snow had piled up so high that the chimney alone of the hut remained above its surface.  With great difficulty and labor they cleared a way out, and then the guide again placing himself at their head, they proceeded on their way.  The air was still and cold, and the sky of a deep, dark blue, which seemed even darker in contrast with the whiteness of the snow.  At times they had great difficulty in struggling through the deep drifts; but for the most part the wind had swept the path clear.  Where it was deepest, the tops of the posts still showed above the snow, and enabled the guide to direct their footsteps.  They were, however, obliged to travel slowly, and it was three days before they gained the village on the northern slope of the mountains, having slept at refuges by the road.