towering over John’s head.  Now before and now behind them went Blanche the cat, pretending as cats do that she was neither following nor leading, but traveling quite independently of them all.  Frequently she disappeared into the bushes or up a tree, but soon came scampering past, when she would stop to make a hasty toilet.  Overhead fluttered from tree to tree the carrier pigeon and the other birds, who were John’s pets and bound to follow wherever he went.

The deer and her fawn went part way with them, and the little rabbits hopped a staccato accompaniment for some time.  But John did not urge them to follow.  He knew they were better off in the forest, where they could take care of themselves.

All day they fared on the uneven path by which, nose to earth, Brutus led them.  And at last, weary and spent, they came to the little village where the Hermit had taken horse for the longer journey.

John paused at the first house in the village and knocked at the gate.  A burly fellow came to the door.

“Hello!” he cried.  Starting back when he saw the strange group gathered in his dooryard.  “What means all this?”

[Illustration:  A strange company.]

“If you please,” said John politely, “we go upon a Journey to the King, and we seek shelter.  Will you let us sleep in your stable, friend?”

“Sleep in my stable!” muttered the man, “a beggar with a band of outlaw animals!  A wolf and a bear!  No, indeed.  I have too much respect for the safety of my cattle and for the King’s laws.”

He was about to shut the door in John’s face.  But the lad had a sudden thought.  He would try at this first place the value of the Hermit’s hint.

“Stay,” he said, “one moment, friend.”  Fumbling in his breast, he drew out the silver medal which he wore about his neck.  “I was to show this—­” he began.

But he saw the man start, and, shading his lantern with his hands, peer more closely at the object.  Then he stared at John’s face with wonder.

“In God’s name!” exclaimed the man, “who are you who travel with this strange company?”

John looked almost as surprised as he.  “A poor pilgrim, on the King’s errand,” he said.  “We ask only a corner of your stable with a bed of straw to lie on.  Give us shelter, kind friend, and to-morrow speed us on our way.”

The man still stared at John as though he saw a fairy.  But now he threw the door wide open.  “Enter,” he said.  “I cannot refuse you.  Enter my house.  You shall have a bed and supper, fair boy; but what of these?” and he turned troubled eyes upon the animals.

“Nay,” said John simply, “I ask no better bed than theirs, my fellow pilgrims.  Thank you for your hospitality, kind friend.  May we all sleep in your stable?  My animals are quite safe company.  They will hurt nothing that hurts not me.”

John smiled then in his happy, trustful way, and the face of the man looking into his brightened as if by reflection.  His coarse mouth broadened into a smile.