“Captive! ha!” exclaimed the king. “Said the knave so?”
“He did, sire,” replied Mabel; “and I knew it was Herne by his antlered helm.”
“There is reason in what the damsel says, my liege,” interposed Suffolk. “If possible, you had better avoid an encounter with the villains.”
“My hands itch to give them a lesson,” rejoined Henry. “But I will be ruled by you. God's death! I will return to-morrow, and hunt them down like so many wolves.”
“Where are your horses, sire?” asked Mabel.
“Tied to a tree at the foot of the hill,” replied Henry. “But I have attendants midway between this spot and Snow Hill.”
“This way, then!” said Mabel, breaking from him, and darting into a narrow path among the trees.
Henry ran after her, but was not agile enough to overtake her. At length she stopped.
“If your majesty will pursue this path,” she cried, “you will come to an open space amid the trees, when, if you will direct your course towards a large beech-tree on the opposite side, you will find another narrow path, which will take you where you desire to go.”
“But I cannot go alone,” cried Henry.