"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.