After a pause the whistle was repeated, and somewhat more loudly.
"I will go a little lower down and endeavour to make out who it is," said Careless.
While he was cautiously descending, a voice, which both recognised, called out:
"'Tis I, William Penderel!"
"Heaven grant he has brought us something to eat!" exclaimed the king. "Go down to him quickly, Will."
On emerging from the foliage, Careless beheld William Penderel at the foot of the tree, having a basket in his hand and a cushion under his arm.
"Never wert thou more welcome, friend William," cried Careless, enchanted at the sight. "His majesty is well-nigh famished, and I should have been forced to come to thee for food hadst thou not made thy appearance."
"You must not quit the tree on any consideration," returned William. "Boscobel is surrounded by the enemy. I have been obliged to steal hither by a path known only to myself, and even then I ran the greatest risk. Do not come down, I pray your honour," he added, seeing that Careless, who was standing on the lowest bough, was about to descend. "I will hand the basket up to you."
The feat would have been difficult to any man of less gigantic stature than William Penderel, but was easily accomplished by him.
Just as Careless obtained possession of the basket, the king appeared above his head.