iles away, and I knew nothing
of the lie of the land, save that along the crest of the Ridgeway
ran the road from Tenby to Pembroke, and that once on that road I
could make my way back in no long time. That, as it seemed to me,
was the best thing that I could do, and I headed my horse at once
for the hill, going slowly, for it was no great distance, and it
was heavy going in the places where the snow had gathered in
drifts. I thought that maybe I should cross the track of the horses
and hounds, or hear Eric's horn before I had gone far, but I
reached the foot of the hill without doing either.

Then I came to a place where the land began to draw upward more
sharply, thickly timbered, with scattered rocks among the roots of
the trees. Fox and badger and wildcat had their hiding places here,
for I could trace them on all sides, and then I saw the track of a
wolf, and that minded me, as that track in snow ever must, of Owen
and the day when he came to my help at Eastdean. That is the
clearest memory I have of my childhood.

Then I thought that I heard the horn, and stopped to listen, nor
was it long before what I had heard came to my ears again. It was
not the sound of the horn, however, but somewhat strange to me, and
for a while I wondered what forest bird or beast had a note like
that.

For the third time I heard it, and now it was plainly like the
half-stifled cry of some one in pain among the trees to the right
of me, and not far distant either. So I rode toward the place
whence the cry seemed to come, and as I went I called. At that the
voice rose more often, with some sound of entreaty in its tone, and
it seemed to be trying to form words. I hastened then, crossing
more wolf tracks on the way, and then I struck the trail of many
men and a few horses; but these were not Eric's, for the hoof marks
were rather those of ponies than of his tall steeds. I followed
that track, for it seemed to lead toward the weary voice that I
heard, and so I came to a circle of great oaks with a clear space
of many paces wide between them, and there I found what I was
seeking. It was piteous enough.

A man was tied to the greatest of the trees, with knees to chin,
and bound ankles, while round his knees his hands were clasped and
fastened so that a stout stake was thrust through, under his knees
and over his elbows, trussing him helplessly. The cords that bound
him to the tree were round his body in such wise that he could by
no me