aching the open Constans saw that the situation had developed
into a crisis. The cavalier of the ostrich-feather had forced his horse
up the steep bank of the Ochre brook and was riding slowly towards the
girl, who stood motionless, realizing her perilous position, but unable
for the moment to cope with it. She half turned, as though to seek again
the shelter of the birchen copse; then, clutching at her impeding
skirts, she ran in the direction of the keep. He of the ostrich-plume
spurred to the gallop; inevitably their paths must intersect a few yards
farther on.

From behind came the noise of men shouting and the thud of quarrels
impinging upon stout oak; the Doomsmen, hitherto in hiding, were making
a diversion, in answer, doubtless, to a signal from their leader. A
hundred gray-garbed men showed themselves in the open, coming from the
shelter of the fir plantation back of the rickyards; they ran towards
the open water gate, exposing themselves recklessly in their eagerness
to reach it.

But the defenders were not to be surprised so easily, and Constans,
glancing backward, saw that the drawbridge was already in the air and
the gate closed. The outlaws, realizing that the surprise was a failure,
and unwilling to brave the arrows sent whistling about their ears from
the fighting platforms of the keep, fell back in some disorder. At the
same moment a solitary figure appeared, emerging as though by magic from
the solid wall of the keep--Sir Gavan himself, a father forgetful of all
else but the peril of his children. He must have used the "Rat's-Hole"
for egress; he hurried down the green slope, calling his daughter by
name. All this Constans saw in that swift backward glance. Well, there
was but one thing that he could do.

And Night knew it, too; brave little Night, how cleverly you forced
yourself under the towering bulk of that brute of a blood-bay! A thunder
of hoofs and they were in touch; Constans felt himself hurled into
space; the bridle-reins of tough plaited leather were torn from his
hands; Night and he were down.

The dust cloud cleared and the boy struggled up, although his head was
still spinning from the shock of the encounter. Ten yards away lay the
black mare with a broken foreleg. She was trying to rise, her eyes
glazed with pain and her flanks heaving horribly.

The blood-bay had kept his feet and his master his saddle--a hardy pair,
these two. But the desperate expedient had proved successful in