The boy, so much like his young master, had,
unconsciously to Humphrey, won his way into the heart of the
serving-man; while Hugo had learned in their few days' companionship to
feel toward Humphrey as his faithfulness deserved. So, while the fire
blazed up and all remained in darkness outside of its circle, Humphrey
entertained Hugo with tales of his early life, to which the boy
listened with appreciation. "Ay, lad," said Humphrey, when half an hour
had gone by and he paused in his story to look at him with approval,
"thou hast the ears of my lady herself, who is ever ready to listen to
what I would say."
And then came a whistling arrow, shot by an unsteady, drunken hand, and
another, and another, none of which wounded either boy or man, since
Hugo was still defended by his shirt of mail, and Humphrey wore a stout
gambeson.
[Illustration: Humphrey started up, snatching a great bunch of long
flaming reeds]
Instantly Humphrey started up and, snatching a great bunch of long,
flaming reeds to serve him for a light, ran in the direction whence the
arrows had come. Hugo, catching up an armful of reeds yet unlighted to
serve when those Humphrey carried should burn out, hurried after him.
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