ent. It was a
weird scene, the peaks of the Black Mountains rose up into the calm
pellucid air of night, the solemn woods lined the further bank of
the river, and extended to the bases of the hills. It was just the
time and the hour when the wild, unconquered Celts were likely to
make their foray upon the dwellers on the English side of the
stream, if they could find a spot where they could cross.

About half a mile from Llanystred Castle, amidst the splash and
dash of the water, Hubert distinguished some peculiar and
unaccustomed sounds, like the murmur of many voices, in some
barbarous tongue, all ll's and consonants.

He waited and listened.

Just below him roared and foamed the stream, and it so happened
that a series of black rocks raised their heads above the swollen
waters like still porpoises, at such distances as to afford
lithesome people the chance of crossing, dry shod, when the water
was low.

But it was a risk, for the river had all the strength of a
cataract, and he who slipped would infallibly be carried down by
the strong current and dashed against the rocks and drowned.

Here Hubert watched, clad in light mail was he, and he cunningly
kept in the shadow.

Soon he saw a black moving mass opposite, and then the moonlight
gleam upon a hundred spear tops. Did his heart fail him? No; the
chance he had pined for was come. It was quite possible for one
daring man to bid defiance to the hundred here, and prevent their
crossing.

See, they come, and Hubert's heart beats loudly--the first is on
the first stone, the others press behind. He, the primus, leaps on
to the second rock, and so to the third, and still his place is
taken, at every resting place he leaves, by his successor. Yes,
they mean to get over, and to have a little blood letting and fire
raising tonight, just for amusement.

And only one stout heart to prevent them. They do not see him until
the last stepping stone is attained by the first man, and but one
more leap needed to the shore, when a stern, if youthful, voice
cries:

"Back, ye dogs of Welshmen!" and the first Celt falls into the
stream, transfixed by Hubert's spear, transfixed as he made the
final leap.

A sudden pause: the second man tries to leap so as to avoid the
spear, his own similar weapon presented before him, but position
gives Hubert advantage, and the second foe goes down the waves,
dyeing them with his blood, raising his despairing hand, as he
dies, out of the