e that ye
are here, roaring for five hundred pounds, the realm of England is
elsewhere being lost and won."

"It is well said," replied Sir Daniel.--"Selden, fall me out with six
crossbowmen; hunt me her down. I care not what it cost; but, at my
returning, let me find her at the Moat House. Be it upon your head.--And
now, sir messenger, we march."

And the troops broke into a good trot, and Selden and his six men were
left behind upon the street of Kettley, with the staring villagers.

CHAPTER II

IN THE FEN

It was near six in the May morning when Dick began to ride down into the
fen upon his homeward way. The sky was all blue; the jolly wind blew
loud and steady; the windmill-sails were spinning; and the willows over
all the fen rippling and whitening like a field of corn. He had been all
night in the saddle, but his heart was good and his body sound, and he
rode right merrily.

The path went down and down into the marsh, till he lost sight of all
the neighbouring landmarks, but Kettley windmill on the knoll behind
him, and the extreme top of Tunstall Forest far before. On either hand
there were great fields of blowing reeds and willows, pools of water
shaking in the wind, and treacherous bogs, as green as emerald, to tempt
and to betray the traveller. The path lay almost straight through the
morass. It was already very ancient; its foundation had been laid by
Roman soldiery; in the lapse of ages much of it had sunk, and every here
and there, for a few hundred yards, it lay submerged below the stagnant
waters of the fen.

About a mile from Kettley, Dick came to one such break in the plain line
of causeway, where the reeds and willows grew dispersedly like little
islands and confused the eye. The gap, besides, was more than usually
long; it was a place where any stranger might come readily to mischief;
and Dick bethought him, with something like a pang, of the lad whom he
had so imperfectly directed. As for himself, one look backward to where
the windmill-sails were turning black against the blue of heaven--one
look forward to the high ground of Tunstall Forest, and he was
sufficiently directed, and held straight on, the water washing to his
horse's knees, as safe as on a highway.

Half-way across, and when he had already sighted the path rising high
and dry upon the farther side, he was aware of a great splashing on his
right, and saw a grey horse, sunk to its belly in the mud, and still
spasmodical