HOW THEY BAYED THE OLD LION I must report what happened to the King of England when (like a falcon foiled in his stoop) he found himself outpaced and outgeneralled on the moor.

Shaken off by those he sought to entrap, baited by the badger he hoped to draw, he took on something not to be shaken off, namely death, and had drawn from him what he would ill spare, namely the breath of his nostrils.

To have done with all this eloquence, he caught a chill, which, working on a body shattered by rages and bad living, smouldered in him--a slow-eating fever which bit him to the bones, charred and shrivelled him up.

In the clutches of this crawling disease he joined his forces with those of his Marshal, and marched to the relief of Le Mans, where the French King was taking his ease.

Philip fired the place when he heard of his approach; so Henry got near enough to see the sky throbbing with red light, and over all a cloud of smoke blacker than his own despair.