death of so many brave Frankish warriors whose bones have been left
to bleach in the defile of Glen-Clan and on the hills of this accursed
country!"

"Rather envy their fate. They have died for religion; they are now in
paradise, in the midst of a chorus of seraphim."

Neroweg shrugs his shoulders with an air of incredulity, and after a
moment of silence proceeds: "You promised to point out to me where
these pagans conceal their treasures."

"On the other side of the marsh of Peulven which we are now to traverse,
lies a vast forest in which a large number of druid stones are found.
Have the earth removed at their foot, and you will find large sums of
money in silver and gold, and many precious articles that have been
hidden there since the beginning of the war."

"When will we arrive at that forest?"

"This evening before nightfall."

"I do not wish to risk my troops in that forest, and fall into another
ambush like the one of the defile!" cries Neroweg. "The day is drawing
to its close. We shall encamp to-night in the midst of the bare hills
where we now are, and where no surprise is to be feared."

"Here are your scouts back," observes the monk to the Frankish chief.
"Interrogate them before you make up your mind definitely."

"Neroweg," reports one of the riders who had scouted to the edge of the
marsh, "as far as the eye reaches, nothing is seen on the marsh; there
is no sign of any men; there is not a boat in sight. On the shores there
is not a single hut, and there is no evidence of any entrenchment."

Impatient to judge by himself of the nature of the field, the Frankish
chief, followed by the monk, immediately rides forward and reaches the
top of the hill shortly before occupied by the scouts. From the eminence
Neroweg beholds a vast expanse of marshy ground in whose numerous pools
of stagnant water the last rays of the sinking sun are mirrored. The
jetty, covered with sward and lined with a thick fringe of reeds,
reaches clear to the other side, and is lost on the edge of the forest.
"There is not the slightest fear of an ambush in crossing this
solitude," says Neroweg with visible mental relief. "The march across
can only take up half an hour, at the most."

"We have about an hour more of daylight left us," observes the monk.
"The forest you see yonder is called the forest of Cardik. It stretches
far away to the right and left of the marsh, seeing that, towards the
west, it reaches the borders of t