It is not the wind! What an odd sound! Come, we will hunt it out!”

Now the King’s joy was nearly insupportable. His tired lungs did their utmost — and hopefully, too — but the sealed jaws and the muffling sheepskin sadly crippled the effort. Then the poor fellow’s heart sank, to hear the hermit say —

“Ah, it came from without — I think from the copse yonder. Come, I will lead the way.”

The King heard the two pass out, talking; heard their footsteps die quickly away — then he was alone with a boding, brooding, awful silence.

It seemed an age till he heard the steps and voices approaching again — and this time he heard an added sound, — the trampling of hoofs, apparently.