dvancing, and the strange
part of it was this, that they did not seem to get to the end of
their toil. Little did they suspect that they were wandering in a
path which knew no end, save the bottom of the quagmire.

And now the marks of the feet, which had hitherto appeared plain
before Hugo as he rode, were seen no more; nor could the baron tell
the precise spot when they faded from sight; they had become
fainter and fainter, and then had vanished.

"Dog, where are the footmarks? thou art wandering from the road."

"We shall soon find them again."

"Are we nearly over the Swamp?"

"Thou wilt see firm land soon."

The baron grasped the cord tightly.

Onward they wandered, and still naught but rushes and flags, sedges
and dried reeds, met their gaze, until a promontory of firm
ground--a rock of deep red sandstone--rose from the mire, above
their heads--distant, it might be, a bow shot.

The baron uttered a sigh of relief, when his horse stumbled; the
poor brute strove to recover his footing, and sank deeper into the
treacherous quicksand. Over went the Baron, over his horse's head.

Ordgar snatched at the cord; it escaped Hugo's grasp; the guide was
amidst the reeds, and in one moment he had made his escape; the
reeds parted, waved again, higher than the head of the fugitive,
and the baron saw him no more; only a mocking laugh arose to
augment the rage of the baffled tyrant.

But that rage was speedily changed to terror, for, as the baron
rose, his feet sank beneath him, and he felt as if some unseen hand
had grasped them in the tenacity of the quicksand, just as a faint
cloud of smoke rolled by overhead.

Meanwhile the men in the rear were pressing on, and the foremost
advanced to help their leader and his struggling steed; but all who
did so were soon in the mire in like fashion, sinking deeper with
each struggle.

Oh, how awful that sucking, clasping feeling beneath the surface of
the earth, that gradual sinking out of sight--a process lasting
perhaps for hours. But hours were not given to Baron Hugo; for at
this moment the awful cry of "Fire!" "Fire!" was heard on all
sides, and a loud mocking shout of laughter from hundreds of unseen
enemies, now safe on the firm ground beyond the Swamp, was the
answer.

A cloud of thick smoke rolled over the reeds, and cries of distress
and anguish arose yet more loudly.

"Death to the incendiary! let him who burnt the monks of St.
Wilfred die by fire himself as