No one missed De la Zouch at first, and it was not until nigh upon the conclusion of the meal that his absence was remarked.

“Why, where is Sir Henry de la Zouch?” asked the old knight.

No one had seen him for some time.

“Ah, well,” exclaimed Sir George, “’tis a bad plan to be betwixt towns at mealtimes, eh, Doll?  I suppose he’ll come soon, though.  Perhaps he’s having the best run of the day all alone;” and the knight sighed at the bare thought of his being away from it.

But Sir George’s anticipations were not fulfilled, for when the meal was finished De la Zouch had not appeared.

“He may have met with an accident?” suggested Manners.

“I rather think Sir Henry is afraid of me,” stammered old Sir John de Lacey, as he buried his face in the last tankard of ale.

“Then he were wise indeed to stay away,” added Sir Thomas Stanley, with a sly wink.  “I, for one, would not lightly risk a combat with so doughty a knight as yourself, else Margaret might eftsoon weep for a lover departed.”

As there was still some time left, and there was no certain knowledge that Sir Henry needed their assistance, it was determined to return slowly homewards, and if sport offered itself upon the way to turn aside and follow it.  The party had not been long in motion before it roused a “fall” of woodcocks, the very sight of which—­so excessively rare at such a time—­infused into the sportsmen all the animation of which they were capable.  The hawks shot up after them, and their bells, which could be heard tinkling even when the birds were beyond the range of vision, served in some degree to inform the hunters which direction they should take.

“Well, if De la Zouch is doing better than this, why then he is welcome to it,” said Sir George, as with his coat sleeve he wiped away the perspiration which was streaming down his face. “’Tis fine sport, this, Master Manners,” he added, and the old baron chuckled with glee.

It was at this moment that the head falconer approached.

“We have found Sir Henry, my lord,” he said.  “He is sorely injured by a fall.”

“Ha! is that so?  Then you were right, Master Manners,” exclaimed Sir George, as he turned round to the falconer.  “Where is he?” he asked.

“Over the ditch, my lord, close by the wall where his page is standing by his side,” and he pointed to where Eustace stood.

Sir George blew his horn, and in answer to the signal the eager hunters broke off their chase and returned, puzzled in no small degree by the summons they had received.  In a few brief words the situation was explained to them, and the party rapidly pushed on to rejoin their injured companion.

De Lacey, upon hearing that his quondam friend was hurt, was so overcome by a most chivalric spirit of forgiveness that he determined to be the first to reach his side, and to offer him what relief lay within his power.  Filled with this noble resolve, he hurried forward, but, unfortunately for him, he was not destined to accomplish his mission, for as he was crossing the ditch his pole snapped asunder, and he suddenly found himself located in the very centre of the rank mud dyke.  There he was, and all his efforts to free himself caused him only to sink deeper and deeper.