him away into distant lands, and vanquished sixteen
knights in one pitched battle and thirty-four in another;
and all these and the former nine he made to swear
that about Whitsuntide they would ride to Arthur's
court and yield them to Queen Guenever's hands as
captives of Sir Kay the Seneschal, spoil of his knightly
prowess; and now here were these half dozen, and the
rest would be along as soon as they might be healed of
their desperate wounds.

Well, it was touching to see the queen blush and
smile, and look embarrassed and happy, and fling fur-
tive glances at Sir Launcelot that would have got him
shot in Arkansas, to a dead certainty.