Her name was Godda. They lived happily for a long time, and through all the borderland, and much of England too, her great beauty was renowned. And then one day Edric, because he was kept waiting for his meal, forgot his promise and in his rough, wild way, blamed the fair Godda for her sisters and cried: "Is it your sisters who have kept you waiting?" And at this, with a sad look of remorse Godda disappeared and he never saw her again.

But although after this Edric submitted to the Conqueror, years of war and outlawry followed and his name was a byword throughout the land.

"But 'tis said, Miss," old Henry squeaked, as he harnessed the old horse to the long roller, "that he did not die like mortal man do die. Nobody ever heard that he did die and they say that he sleeps till judgment day under these very hills. Not for Wild Edric will come the joys of resurrection morning, but only the longed-for rest of death... Aye! that's what they say..."

"Go on," urged Peter. "You must know more than that about him? Don't people say he can be seen on these hills? Over at home on the Mynd, I 'member Mr. Ingles told me once that he comes there like a great, black dog with fiery eyes."

"Aye, maybe," said Henry tersely.

"But does he come here?" Peter persisted.

Old Henry looked at her sideways.

"Aye! He's been seen hereabouts. 'Afore the last war he was seen a-ridin' with his hell-mad hunt up the Dingle yonder... And there's a girl down Barton Beach seen him but a while since... Always he comes a'blowing of his horn when trouble's brewin'... Night 'afore young Humphrey's boy was took prisoner was when the girl saw him."

"What's he like?" Peter whispered. "Have you seen him, Mr. Henry?" '

"Me? No, Missie... Times in winter we've heard him riding over the hills from my place yonder but I've never seen him, thank God... Short and dark they say he is and fierce looking and on a big white horse. And by his side now rides his fairy bride. Dressed in green she is, with golden hair a'floatin' down her back... 'Tis ill to see the Wild Huntsman, Missie. If ever you hear his horn 'tis well to hide your eyes till the hunt has passed you by."

"Gosh!" breathed Peter ecstatically. What a story she would have to tell the others!

She sighed, and then was awakened from her dreams by a stern and terrible voice behind her.

"Petronella!" it boomed.

"The Lord ha' mercy on us, it's the Master," squeaked Henry without turning his head.