s had come neighing in terror to the gate. Two were from
Selden's troop; five belonged to men who had ridden with Sir Daniel to
the field. Lastly, a little before dawn, a spearman had come staggering
to the moat-side, pierced by three arrows; even as they carried him in,
his spirit had departed; but, by the words that he uttered in his agony,
he must have been the last survivor of a considerable company of men.

Hatch himself showed, under his sun-brown, the pallor of anxiety; and
when he had taken Dick aside and learned the fate of Selden, he fell on
a stone bench and fairly wept. The others, from where they sat on stools
or doorsteps in the sunny angle of the court, looked at him with wonder
and alarm, but none ventured to inquire the cause of his emotion.

"Nay, Master Shelton," said Hatch at last--"nay, but what said I? We
shall all go. Selden was a man of his hands; he was like a brother to
me. Well, he has gone second; well, we shall all follow! For what said
their knave rhyme?--'A black arrow in each black heart.' Was it not so
it went? Appleyard, Selden, Smith, old Humphrey gone; and there lieth
poor John Carter, crying, poor sinner, for the priest."

Dick gave ear. Out of a low window, hard by where they were talking,
groans and murmurs came to his ear.

"Lieth he there?" he asked.

"Ay, in the second porter's chamber," answered Hatch. "We could not bear
him farther, soul and body were so bitterly at odds. At every step we
lifted him he thought to wend. But now, methinks, it is the soul that
suffereth. Ever for the priest he crieth, and Sir Oliver, I wot not why,
still cometh not. 'Twill be a long shrift; but poor Appleyard and poor
Selden, they had none."

Dick stooped to the window and looked in. The little cell was low and
dark, but he could make out the wounded soldier lying moaning on his
pallet.

"Carter, poor friend, how goeth it?" he asked.

"Master Shelton," returned the man, in an excited whisper, "for the dear
light of heaven, bring the priest. Alack, I am sped: I am brought very
low down; my hurt is to the death. Ye may do me no more service; this
shall be the last. Now, for my poor soul's interest, and as a loyal
gentleman, bestir you; for I have that matter on my conscience that
shall drag me deep."

He groaned, and Dick heard the grating of his teeth, whether in pain or
terror.

Just then Sir Daniel appeared upon the threshold of the hall. He had a
letter in one hand.

"Lads," he sa