own to the bottom of the pass--a
pass cut, like the bed of a mountain torrent, at the feet of immense
rocks that rise on either side perpendicular over a hundred feet in the
air.

A distant rumbling noise, confused at first, and becoming more and more
distinct as it draws nearer and nearer, disturbs one day, shortly after
the angry departure of Abbot Witchaire from Brittany, the otherwise
profound silence of the solitude. By little and little the dull tramp of
cavalry is distinguished; presently also the clanking of iron arms upon
iron armor, and finally the rythmic tread of large troops of foot
soldiers, the lumbering of wagon wheels jolting upon the stony ground,
the neighing of horses and the bellowing of yoke-oxen. All these various
sounds draw nearer, grow louder, and are finally blended into one steady
roar. They announce the approach of an army corps of considerable
proportions. Suddenly the mournful and prolonged cry of a night bird is
heard from the crest of the rocks that overhang the defile. Other
similar, but more distant cries answer the first signal, like an echo
that loses itself in the distance. Silence ensues thereupon--except for
the tumultuous din of the advancing army corps. A small troop appears at
the entrance of the tortuous passage; a monk on horseback guides the
scouting party. At the monk's side rides a warrior of tall stature, clad
in rich armor. His white buckler, on which three eagle's talons are
designed, hangs to one side from the pommel of his saddle, while an iron
mace dangles from the other. Behind the Frankish chief ride several
cavalrymen accompanied by about a score of Saxon archers,
distinguishable by their long quivers.

"Hugh," says the chief of the warriors to one of his men, "take with you
two horsemen, and let five or six archers precede you to make certain
that there is no ambush to fear. At the slightest sign of an attack fall
back upon us and give the alarm. I do not wish to entangle the gross of
my troop in this defile without the necessary precautions."

Hugh obeys his chief. The little vanguard quickens its step and soon
disappears beyond one of the windings of the pass.

"Neroweg, the measure is wise," observes the monk. "One could not
advance with too much precaution into this accursed country of Brittany,
where I have lived long enough to know that it is extremely dangerous."

"At the end of this defile, I am told, we enter upon even ground."

"Yes, but before th