ival, and who were now lying in a heap of
straw, eyes shut, mouth open, and with their heavy faces looking swollen
and red, breathing stertorously.

"Why, the brutes are drunk," said Saint Simon. "If their mistress knew,
I fancy their stay here would be short, for she seems a thorough
business soul."

"Sim!" cried Denis excitedly, gripping him by the shoulder.

"What's the matter, lad? Can you see a ghost or a nightmare in the dark
corner there?"

"No, nor can I see our horses. They were haltered yonder. Where are
they now?"

"Ah!" yelled Saint Simon, and snatching out his sword he made as if to
prick the two sleeping grooms into wakefulness; but Denis flung his arm
across his chest and cried angrily:

"Never mind them! The horses, man, the horses--the horses! They may be
only in the field, led there to graze."

"You are mad!" cried Saint Simon angrily. "But yes; go on out through
that farther door."

Denis was already making for an opening at the far end of the long low
building, through which the afternoon sunshine streamed. Passing out,
they found themselves in an inner yard, and beyond that there was a long
open meadow, surrounded by a high hedge. But for the moment all was
blank, and a feeling of despair made the young men's hearts sink as they
mentally saw at a glance that their beautiful chargers had not excited
attention for nothing--that they had been followed, horse-thieves had
been at work, and that their noble steeds were gone.

"How shall we dare to face the King?" thought Denis, and the next
instant he grasped the fact that there must be a lane beyond the distant
hedge, for he just caught sight of the head of a man whose covering
seemed familiar gliding along above the fencing, now seen, now
disappearing, as if he were mounted on a walking-horse.

"Look! Not too late, Sim," he whispered. "They're over yonder. We
must make for that lane. I'll go this way to cut that fellow off; you
go to the left there, to meet him if I turn him back."

"Think the horses are there?" whispered Saint Simon hoarsely.

"Think!" cried Denis, in a low, harsh voice that he did not know as his
own. "No: I am sure."

No further words passed, for, separating at once, Denis dashed off to
the right to make for the far corner of the field, in the faint hope of
reaching it and getting through into the lane in time, while Saint Simon
ran swiftly to the left to get into the horse-track there and follow the
ma