“Huntsmen!” cried the Hermit.  “Send Brutus into the hut.”  John drove the dog inside, and some of the house-pets with him.  Already the others had taken alarm at the threatening noise and were scattering in every direction.

Nearer and nearer came the sound of galloping hoofs, the baying of hounds, the shouts of many men.  John and the Hermit stood with pale faces, waiting.

Suddenly into the clearing bounded a frightened deer,—­a slender dappled creature with brown eyes.  Straight to the Hermit she ran, and dropped panting at his feet.

“It is our doe!” cried John, his face turning whiter.  “O father!  They are hunting her!”

The old man said nothing, but stooped and threw his mantle over the trembling creature.  Hardly had he done so when the hounds burst into the clearing, barking fiercely, rushing towards the spot where the deer lay.

The Hermit raised his staff and stepped forward with a quick word.  Instantly the dogs paused, cringing.  They snarled and snapped their teeth, but made no motion to draw nearer.  There was another loud bugle-blast, and a group of horsemen burst into the open space.

“Hola!  Hola!  The stand!” cried the foremost rider, flourishing his sword.  The others clustered about this leader.  He was a tall, oldish man, red-faced and fierce-eyed.  Like the stranger whom John had met, he was magnificently dressed in green velvet, with a gold chain about his neck, and a star blazing on his breast.  He wore also a green cap bound with a gold band, from which a golden feather drooped to his shoulder.  The gloves which he wore, the baldric of his bugle, and the hilt of the sword which he brandished aloft, glittered with jewels.

When he spied the Hermit standing with upraised staff over the deer, while the dogs cowered at his feet, he drew up his horse and gave a shout of wonder.  Then once more there was a moment of intense silence in that spot whose quiet had been broken by such a din.  Thereafter the splendid leader of the hunt spoke in a brutal voice.

“Ho!  Who are you who interrupt our hunt and stand between us and our quarry?  Stand aside, old man, whoever you are.  This is no place for you.  The deer is ours.”  He flourished his jeweled sword eagerly.

“I shall not stand aside,” said the Hermit.  “This doe is mine, my friend and companion.  Her milk has nourished me many a day, and she shall not die in this place which is my home.”

“Shall not die?” cried the huntsman hoarsely.  “Do you know to whom you speak?”

“I can guess,” said the Hermit quietly.  “From his cruelty and his free speech I judge it must be he who calls himself king of the realm beyond this forest.”

“King of this forest and lord of all that dwell therein,” shouted the huntsman ferociously.  “And who are you who dare oppose me?”

“I am a hermit,” said the old man simply.  “My service is to God, whom you dishonor.  My friends are the creatures whom you hunt.  My study is to save life, which you would destroy.  Depart, and leave in peace this place where life is sacred.”