In a twinkling the unhappy bird was in the hound's mouth and
Fleetfoot was off again to the thicket to supplement his scant dinner
with a bird of his own catching.
"Here be troubles enough!" cried Humphrey. "King's men on our track,
and now partridge feathers to set the keepers and rangers after us.
Well, I will push through this underbrush to the right. Perchance Hugo
rideth in the bridle-path beyond, since it was from that part the dog
came. And he shall put the hound in leash. I am resolved on it. I have
no mind to have hand or foot lopped off that so a deerhound may have
his fill of partridges."
With a frown he pushed through the underbrush. The sun was setting when
he emerged into a path and, at a little distance, caught sight of Hugo
jogging slowly along and looking warily about him. He dared not signal
him by a whistle, so, putting spurs to his loaded horse, he advanced as
fast as he was able, and shortly after came up with the lad, his anger
at Fleetfoot's trespass rather increased than abated, and, in
consequence, with his manner peremptory.
"Into the thick here to the right," he growled, laying his hand on the
bridle of Hugo's horse.
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