n minutes had elapsed from the moment when the first
illumination of mind had come to him respecting some plot against the
life of an innocent child, before he had armed himself, and unleashed
two of the fleetest, strongest, fiercest of the hounds, and was speeding
up across the moor and fell towards the lonely crag of the eagle's nest,
which lay halfway between the castle of Dynevor and the abode of Maelgon
ap Caradoc.

There was one advantage Wendot possessed over his brothers, and that was
that he could take the wild-deer tracks which led straight onward and
upward, whilst they with their charge would have to keep to the winding
mule track, which trebled the distance. The maiden's palfrey was none
too clever or surefooted upon these rough hillsides, and their progress
would be but slow.

Wendot moved as if he had wings to his feet, and although the hot summer
sun began to beat down upon his head, and his breath came in deep,
laboured gasps, he felt neither heat nor fatigue, but pressed as eagerly
onwards and upwards as the strong, fleet hounds at his side.

He knew he was on the right track; for ever and anon his path would
cross that which had been trodden by the feet of the boys and the horse
earlier in the day, and his own quick eyes and the deep baying of the
hounds told him at once whenever this was the case. Upwards and onwards,
onwards and upwards, sprang the brave lad with the untiring energy of a
strong and righteous purpose. He might be going to danger, he might be
going to his death; for if he came into open collision with the wild and
savage retainers of Maelgon, intent upon obtaining their prey, he knew
that they would think little of stabbing him to the heart rather than be
balked. There was no feud so far between Llanymddyvri and Dynevor, but
Wendot knew that his father was suspected of leaning towards the English
cause, and that it would take little to provoke some hostile
demonstration on the part of his wild and reckless neighbour. The whole
country was torn and rent by internecine strife, and there was a chronic
state of semi-warfare kept up between half the nobles of the country
against the other half.

But of personal danger Wendot thought nothing. His own honour and that
of his father were at stake. If the little child left in their care were
treacherously given up to the foes of the English, the boy felt that he
should never lift up his head again. He must save her -- he would. Far
rather w