his
was the saner summing of it up. And yet--

He broke into my musings with a pointed question. "What say you, Jack?
'Tis but a little whiffet of a Tory jade who cares not the snap of her
finger for either of us. The night is fine and dark. Shall we float the
canoe and give them all the slip?"

This was how it came to turn upon a "yes" or "no" of mine. I hesitated,
I know not why. In the little pause the fire burned low between us, and
the shadows deepened in the burrow cavern until they strangled the eye
as mephitic vapors scant a man of breath. The silence, too, was
stifling. There was no sound to breach it save the gurgling murmur of
the river, and this was subdued and intermittent like the death-rattle
in the throat of the dying.

I've always made a scoff of superstition, and yet, my dears, a thousand
questions in this life of ours must hang answerless to the crack of doom
if you deny it standing-room. I knew no more than I have set down here
of Margery's besetment; nay, I had every reason Richard Jennifer had to
believe that she was well and well content, lacking nothing, save,
mayhap, the freedom to marry where she chose.

And yet, out of the stifling silence there came a sudden cry for help; a
cry voiceless to the outward ear, but sharp and piercing to that finer
inward sense; a cry so real that I would start and listen, marveling
that Jennifer made no sign of having heard it.

In the harkening instant there was a faint twang like the thrumming of a
distant harp string, and then the grave-like silence was rent smartly by
the whistling hiss of an arrow, the shaft passing evenly between us and
scattering the handful of fire where it struck.

Jennifer came alive with a start, leaping up with a malediction between
his teeth upon our dallying.

"Too late, by God!" he cried. "They've trapped us like a pair of blind
moles!" And with that he caught up the ancient broadsword, only to swear
again when he found no room to swing it in.

Having the handier weapon, I slipped out before him, creeping on hands
and knees till I could see the leafy screen at the den's mouth, and the
shimmering reflection of the stars upon the water beyond it. There was
no sight nor sound of any enemy, and the canoe lay safe as Jennifer had
left it.

To make assurance sure, I would have scrambled to the bank above; but
at the moment Jennifer hallooed softly to me, and so I crept back into
the burrow.

"See here," he said, excitedly. "