was worth a thought, to be sure; for if the
voice of the big guns were thus become audible in Tunstall Forest, the
fight must have rolled ever eastward, and the day, by consequence, gone
sore against Sir Daniel and the lords of the dark rose.

But presently the little troop began again to move forward, and came
next to a very open, heathy portion of the way, where but a single
tongue of forest ran down to join the road. They were but just abreast
of this, when an arrow shone flying. One of the men threw up his arms,
his horse reared, and both fell and struggled together in a mass. Even
from where the boys lay they could hear the rumour of the men's voices
crying out; they could see the startled horses prancing, and, presently,
as the troop began to recover from their first surprise, one fellow
beginning to dismount. A second arrow from somewhat farther off glanced
in a wide arch; a second rider bit the dust. The man who was dismounting
lost hold upon the rein, and his horse fled galloping, and dragged him
by the foot along the road, bumping from stone to stone, and battered by
the fleeing hoofs. The four who still kept the saddle instantly broke
and scattered; one wheeled and rode, shrieking, towards the ferry; the
other three, with loose rein and flying raiment, came galloping up the
road from Tunstall. From every clump they passed an arrow sped. Soon a
horse fell, but the rider found his feet and continued to pursue his
comrades till a second shot despatched him. Another man fell; then
another horse; out of the whole troop there was but one fellow left, and
he on foot; only, in different directions, the noise of the galloping of
three riderless horses was dying fast into the distance.

All this time not one of the assailants had for a moment showed himself.
Here and there along the path, horse or man rolled, undespatched, in his
agony; but no merciful enemy broke cover to put them from their pain.

The solitary survivor stood bewildered in the road beside his fallen
charger. He had come the length of that broad glade, with the island of
timber, pointed out by Dick. He was not, perhaps, five hundred yards
from where the boys lay hidden; and they could see him plainly, looking
to and fro in deadly expectation. But nothing came; and the man began to
pluck up his courage, and suddenly unslung and bent his bow. At the same
time, by something in his action, Dick recognised Selden.

At this offer of resistance, from all ab