Men said it was Offa’s last hunt of the season; and that is likely, seeing that the time grew late.  If it was, there is no doubt that he meant it to be his greatest also.  Mile by mile, and presently furlong by furlong, as we went the game grew thicker, until the covers and thickets seemed alive with deer which tried to break back, and the undergrowth on either hand of me rustled and crackled with the wild rush of smaller game, to which I soon forgot to pay any heed.  And soon I had no arrows to waste on anything less than a stag of ten, leaving aught else to be dealt with by the foresters behind me.

Once or twice Gymbert rode across the rear of the line, and called to me in cheery wise as he did so.  He seemed to be seeing that no man was out of his place; which was somewhat needful, since as we drew together the arrows must be aimed heedfully.

Which matter was plain to me shortly.  A great red hind crossed me, and I let her go, though I had an arrow on the string, and had aimed.  Even as I lowered the bow, over my shoulder, and grazing it, came another shaft, missing the hind and myself alike.  Some one had shot from behind at her.

“Ho,” shouted Erling, who rode behind me, “clumsy lout, whoever you are!  That is over near to be sportsmanlike.  Have a care, will you?”

I turned sharply with the same thought, and angrily.  But I could not see any man near enough to have shot, for the trees were thick, and we were in a glade of a great wood.  Whoever it was had crossed this glade out of our sight, and doubtless was somewhat ashamed of himself.  It was in my mind to tell Gymbert if he came near me again.  The man who would shoot so carelessly was not safe in a drive like this.

Nor had Erling seen any one.  He had heard a horse behind us, however.  Now he pulled the arrow from a sapling where it had stuck, and showed it me.  It was a handsome shaft enough.

Of course I forgot the matter directly.  It was just one of the common chances of a hunt, which now and then will spoil the sport of a day.  We were getting near the barrier now, and the kings must go forward.  Gymbert passed word along our line to halt, and cease from shooting.

“About time, too,” growled Erling as we pulled up.

Then we dismounted, and the foresters closed up and went forward.  One of the head men left two couple of hounds and some men with me, saying that if I could not see the sport at the nets I might have a boar back, and could maybe bring him to bay here, unless the hounds were wanted.  I thought that they would be, for there were sounds of wild baying from the midst of the line, forward where the kings were, and now and then howls told me that some more bold hound had dashed in on a boar at bay and had met the tusk.  I would that I could see some of that sport, but there was no chance of it.

However, my turn came before long.  Sighard joined me, leading his horse; and another thane, a Mercian, came up also.  They had been to right and left of me in the line, and had seen the hounds left with me.  For a quarter of an hour we stood there talking a little under our breath, but mostly listening with some envy to the sounds of the hunt ahead of us where wolf and boar died at the nets, turning in grim despair on their foes.  Then there was a shout of warning that a boar had broken back.