ack hedge, the square strength of his
shoulders and the graceful lines of his helmed head were silhouetted
sharply against the starry sky. Why had they so familiar a look? Ah! the
noble who had followed Edmund--

So far she got, and then all was blotted out in a flash of pain, as the
man nearest her put out a hand and touched her torn limb.

"Wriggling like a fish, lord," he answered the new-comer.

A sound on the soft turf told that the horseman had alighted. "The
bantling is of too good quality to leave," he said good-naturedly.
"Catch my bridle, Oswin. Where is he wounded?"

He made a quick step toward her, then paused as suddenly, his chin
thrust out in listening. A gesture of his hand imposed a sudden silence,
through which the sound became distinct to all ears,--a trampling and
crashing in the brush beyond the moonlit open. As they wheeled to face
it, a shout came from that direction.

"What ho! Does the Lord of Ivarsdale go there?"

He whom they had called the Etheling drew himself up alertly. "I make no
answer to hedge-creepers," he said. "Come out where you can be seen."

The voice took on a mocking edge. "There is no gainsaying that I feel
safer here. I am the messenger of Edric of Mercia."

Only a warning sign from the Lord of Ivarsdale restrained an angry
chorus. He said with slow contempt, "I grant that it is well fitting the
Gainer's deeds that his men should flinch from the light--"

"Misgreet me not," the mocking voice interrupted. "Before cockcrow we
shall be sworn brothers. I bear a message to King Edmund. And I want you
to further me on my way by telling which direction will fetch me to his
camp."

Derisive laughter went up from the band of King's men. Their leader
snapped his fingers. "That for your slippery devices! Is the Gainer so
ill-advised as to imagine that he is dealing with a second Ethelred?"

"I tell you to keep in mind," the voice retorted, "that before the cock
crows we shall be sworn brothers."

The Etheling's anger leaped out like a flame; even in the starlight it
could be seen how his face crimsoned.

"No, as God lives!" he answered swiftly. "It is not to Edmund alone
that the Gainer is loathful. Should he pass the King's sword, a hundred
blades wait for him, mine among them. Seek what he may seek, he shall
not have peace of us. When I guide a wolf to my sheep-fold, I will show
you the way to Edmund's camp. Take yourself out of reach if you would
not be sped with arrows