“Get up, man, get up,” exclaimed Sir George.  “Here is Doll waiting to honour thee with a dance.”

Dorothy shrank back, while Sir John, utterly exhausted, sank back again helplessly upon the ground.  Seeing that he was totally unable to walk of his own accord, and in too dirty a condition to lean upon anyone’s arm, a rough extempore litter was made, upon which the unfortunate knight was set and carried away, loudly lamenting the unkindness of the fate which had brought him to such a sorry plight.

“And now let us see what we can do for De la Zouch,” said Sir George Vernon, and they proceeded to the spot where the injured knight was lying.

“How now, Sir Henry?  What’s this, any bones broken, eh?  How did you do it, man; was it here?” and having delivered himself of this string of questions, the King of the Peak leaned against the wall and awaited the reply.

“More hurt than injured, I believe,” replied the other, “but Eustace here will tell thee all about it;” and Eustace, who had carefully got the story by heart, recounted how, when they were after a fine bevy of quail, his master’s pole had snapped as he was springing up, and instead of clearing the wall he had fallen heavily against it.

The pole, broken in twain, which lay upon the grass close by, attested the truth of the statement.

“Sir Benedict,” exclaimed the baron, “thou art somewhat learned in leechcraft; see if thou canst do aught.  Tell us what is amiss.”

A Woode stooped down, and after a prolonged examination he gave it as his opinion that some of his friend’s ribs were broken.

Another litter was quickly made up and De la Zouch, who was now feeling the full effects of the injuries he had received, and who in reality stood in need of assistance, was placed upon it and carried off in the wake of Sir John de Lacey.

Leaving them to pursue their way homewards, the hunting party set off once more to make a fresh attempt at sport ere the day should close.  But now the fortune which had so favoured them during the day deserted them.  Not a bird was seen, and after vainly beating about for some time the party at last reluctantly determined to wend its way once more towards Haddon.  Sir George sounded his horn again, and in answer the wanderers returned from all quarters of the wood, all of them light-hearted and most of them light-handed too.

The route now taken was precisely the same by which they had advanced during the day, and they soon arrived at the spot where the struggle had taken place.  Dorothy discovered the first signs of the conflict.

“Why, what in the name of faith is this?” she cried, as she pointed down to the ground. “’Tis a noble, I declare.”

“And here is another,” added Crowleigh, stooping down and picking up the glittering coin.

“And here’s a comb, what a nice—­”

Sir Benedict never missed that sentence, for as he bent down to pick it up he caught sight of the body of the packman, and he started back affrighted at the sight.  “Look!” he cried, “’Tis a—­the blessed saints protect us, ’tis a murder see!” and he pointed to the tree.