It was towards evening, and the host of the Earl was entering the little town of Evesham, about two miles from the spot at which Hugh de Monthermer had by this time arrived, when an object attracted his attention in a small wood at some short distance. The declining sun shone upon something glistening under the trees. It might be a ploughshare, the young knight thought; but a moment after, another gleam came from a different part of the copse, and he instantly turned his horse's head thither, advancing cautiously along a narrow lane, with some archers thrown out in the fields on either side.
After having gone on for about ten minutes, a living creature, creeping along under the hedge, was observed both by the young lord and the persons immediately behind him, but in the dimness of the shade they could not discover what it was.
"'Tis a dog," said Tom Blawket, who was in the first rank behind his leader.
"'Tis more like a bear," observed a third, "and it goes like a bear."
"Pooh! you are always thinking of the Holy Land," rejoined Blawket; "we have no bears here but bears upon two legs."
At that moment Hugh spurred on his horse, and raising his voice, shouted aloud, "Tangel, Tangel, is that you?"
The dwarf started upon his feet, for he was creeping along with wonderful swiftness upon his hands and knees; and, turning round at the well known sound of the young lord's call, he darted towards him with various wild and extravagant gestures.
"They are here," he cried--"they are here; Robin and Ralph and all, and right glad will they be to see you, for we have had a sore time of it these last four days. They thought it was the Prince's army again, and sent me out of the wood to discover."
"Right glad shall we be to meet them, too," replied Hugh; "for though we are strong enough, I trust, and shall soon be stronger, yet a reinforcement of seven or eight hundred gallant men can never come amiss."
"Not so many as that, good knight--not so many as that!" cried the dwarf. "Some of the Yorkshire churls were afraid to come by the road we took, and went round by Stafford--the rascals that Leighton raised, and Shergold of the bower. Thus there are but Robin and Ralph Harland, and two hundred and fifty barely counted; but they are good men and true, who will send you an arrow through the key-hole of Mumbury church-door, or beat the sheriff's constable into the shape of a horseshoe."