"He could not have gone far, sir bailiff," cried one of the
archers, unslinging his bow. "He is in hiding somewhere, for he
knew well, black paynim as he is, that our horses' four legs
could outstrip his two."
"Then we shall have him," said the other. "It shall never be
said, whilst I am bailiff of Southampton, that any waster,
riever, draw-latch or murtherer came scathless away from me and
my posse. Leave that rogue lying. Now stretch out in line, my
merry ones, with arrow on string, and I shall show you such sport
as only the King can give. You on the left, Howett, and Thomas
of Redbridge upon the right. So! Beat high and low among the
heather, and a pot of wine to the lucky marksman."
As it chanced, however, the searchers had not far to seek. The
negro had burrowed down into his hiding-place upon the barrow,
where he might have lain snug enough, had it not been for the red
gear upon his head. As he raised himself to look over the
bracken at his enemies, the staring color caught the eye of the
bailiff, who broke into a long screeching whoop and spurred
forward sword in hand.
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